


Castle on the Hill

by a_c0llecti0n_0f_n0nsense



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Character Death, F/M, Graphic Violence (Typical of War), If you found yourself here after reading my fluff fics.., Lily and James aren't together yet, Order of the Phoenix - Freeform, Original Character(s), Post Hogwarts AU, Romance, Slow Burn, first wizarding war, some smut, this is not that
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-09
Updated: 2018-07-11
Packaged: 2018-10-01 12:14:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 31
Words: 192,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10189685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_c0llecti0n_0f_n0nsense/pseuds/a_c0llecti0n_0f_n0nsense
Summary: After graduating Hogwarts, Lily finds herself quietly fighting the First Wizarding War from an Order of the Phoenix safe house in Scotland as a potions mistress. As the war escalates, Lily learns about love, fear, and what it means to grow up.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello friends! This is my first fan fiction, although not my first written work. I have always loved Lily and James, but have lately been wanting to see Lily grow up a bit out of Hogwarts before they got together. Thus, this story was born. Although it diverges from the canon timeline, I do try my best to stick with the information J.K. Rowling has given about this time period. I have no idea how long this story will be, but I cannot wait to see where it leads! Expect more explicit content (both war and love related) in later chapters. Please review and let me know what you think!
> 
> Disclaimer: The Wizarding World, and all characters within, are property of J.K. Rowling.

1.  
Lily Evans wiped down the worn and weary oak bar, the blue moonlight streaming in through the window and unnecessarily reminding her of how disgustedly early in the morning it was. Quarter til four. She surveyed the empty pub, which seemed so much smaller without the steady bustle of familiar patrons weaving through the tables and crowding around the bar. Colder, too. She pulled her woolen grey wrap tighter around her narrow shoulders, shivering unconsciously.

She tossed the damp towel into the leaky sink and walked up the back stairs into the apartment that sat above the pub, and that Lily and her two roommates called home. She leaned against the doorframe of Dorcas Meadowes’ room, watching her peacefully smile in her sleep. What a shame to wake her, Lily thought, she must be having a lovely dream.

Indeed, there was little to smile about these days, for Dorcas or any other who inhabited the hidden world of magic in Britain in 1979. It had been two years since the war had officially broken out, although its hateful undercurrent had been simmering for decades. Lord Voldemort had been slowly gaining followers and power on the platform of prejudice against Muggleborns, witches and wizards who came from non-magical families, and hatred towards Muggles themselves. First seen as an extremist party with only sporadic hate crimes to its name, Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters now held sway over a majority of the Ministry of Magic, and their unflinching use of violence cowed many of its opposition into submission.

Lily Evans was a Muggleborn witch. When Professor McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, had first arrived on the steps of her coal-blackened stone house in Cokeworth, she felt like she had stepped into one of the many books that littered her bookshelf, nightstand, floor, bathroom sink, pretty much any flat surface that she came into contact with. Of course, her best friend Severus Snape from down the street had been telling her for years that she was a witch. She just assumed that he was making fun of her; she was used to being made fun of, but Sev didn’t seem mean about it so she just nodded and went along with it. Some days Lily wished she could go back in time to before she got her Hogwarts letter, when she thought that magic solved everything. The truth was, magic just amplified problems, made them even more complicated.

 

The city of Inverness had turned into a bit of a hub for young Muggleborn and halfblood witches and wizards since the start of the war. Located in the Scottish Highlands, it was far enough away from London that they were able to stay away from the mess that the Ministry had become. It was also close to Hogwarts. None of the Muggleborns or halfbloods would ever actually admit it, but they had a childlike fear that if they strayed too far from the school, one day they would wake up and realize that the past several years had been nothing but a dream. Hogwarts was their lodestone.

It was for these same geographical reasons that Albus Dumbledore had chosen Inverness for one of the safe houses for the Order of the Phoenix, the guerilla group he had formed to help fight against Voldemort. And it was this safe house that Lily Evans currently inhabited, and for this reason that she reluctantly shook Dorcas awake.

In the same way the Leaky Cauldron was the magical gateway to Diagon Alley, The Mucky Duck was the door to the Inverness Safe House. Lily and her roommates, Dorcas Meadows and Mary McDonald, were barmaids, gatekeepers, healers, and hostesses; really, whatever Dumbledore asked them to be, they were. Lily had been asked to join the Order of the Phoenix at the end of her seventh year at Hogwarts. Her answer had been an automatic yes, although whether that was out of pure Gryffindor loyalty and courage, or because of the stark realization that she had nowhere else to go, she would never really know. 

The three girls shared shifts: eight hours in the bar, playing both barmaid and guard, eight hours in the safe house upstairs acting as a Healer and hostess to the Order members that stumbled in and out, and eight hours to themselves. Lily spent a majority of her free time working on brewing potions, both for their makeshift hospital and for the front lines. She squeezed in sleep when she could, although not nearly enough, as her roommates frequently berated her for.

Dorcas usually wore her hair in some sort of style, whether tightly plaited or pulled back into a bun or ponytail, but in her sleep she had allowed her hair to billow out around her, her tight black curls making it look like the foam that surged up at the bottom of a waterfall. It was the kind of mess, a beautiful mess, that Dorcas would never abide in her waking hours. 

To say that Dorcas Meadowes was a control freak would be a terrible understatement. She had lived surrounded by secrets her whole life, and had to maintain tight control over every aspect of her life so as to never let the façade slip. Her mother came from an old pureblood family, but had fallen in love with a Muggle who worked in the coastal town in Wales that her family vacationed in during the summer. Following Hogwarts, Genevieve Fawley had run away with Tom Ward, hiding in the Muggle world for over a year, until the day that her beloved died in an automobile accident. Lost in an unfamiliar world, without her lover and her guide, she had returned home in disgrace, only to learn that she was pregnant. Her childhood best friend, Damian Meadowes, had proposed marriage to save her and her future child from ostracization by the ruthless pureblood society. 

Dorcas spent her childhood pretending to be the perfect pureblood heir, even begging the Sorting Hat to place her into Slytherin. She carefully selected every word, action, even facial expression to hide her true heritage, what she viewed as her dirty little secret. It wasn’t until Lily Evans had found the dark-haired Slytherin weeping in an empty classroom over a particularly gruesome issue of the Daily Prophet in their fourth year that she admitted the truth out loud for the first time since her mother had told her when she was eight years old. For the next three years Lily was Dorcas’s confidant, and eventually became her best friend, even if their friendship stayed in the shadows of secret passages and hidden classrooms. It was not a wise choice for either of them to broadcast a friendship with someone from a rival house, as Lily had learned the hard way through the destruction of her relationship with Severus. 

In seventh year, though, Dorcas finally made her allegiance public. When two Death Eaters in training, Preston Nott and Grayson Mulciber, attacked Lily from behind in a corridor while she was on patrol, Dorcas had hexed them so thoroughly that it took three days for the two boys regained consciousness. The dark-skinned girl had immediately been forced to vacate her dormitory in the dungeon or face brutal retaliation from the rest of the Slytherins. Lily had brought her friend to the Gryffindor dormitory instead, where a sixth bed had magically appeared overnight; it seemed the castle had found a new home for her.

When Dumbledore approached Dorcas to join the Order of the Phoenix the week before graduation, she did not have to consider it for even a second. The choice of which side of the war she would fight on had been made three years ago when a redhead who hardly knew her had sat by her side all night long while she cried and cried. 

While Lily played potion master for the Order, Dorcas was the herbologist, so when she finally rolled out of bed she immediately grabbed her dragon-skin gloves and, yawning a lazy good morning to her friend, made her way down the twisting hallways to the mini-greenhouse that the girls had converted the attic into. She would check on all of her darling plants before her shift as guard in the pub began. 

Watching the former Slytherin slink down the hallways, half-heartedly braiding her hair as she went, Lily turned in the opposite direction with a sigh. She wandered down a couple of hallways of the strange apartment, making a few wrong turns and finding a dead-end before finally coming to the Hospital Wing.  
Lily often wondered what this building had been before it had been turned into a safe house. Had it been some crazy old recluse wizard’s home? Maybe it had once been some sort of an inn; it certainly had the space. After two years, Lily still found new rooms every once in awhile; there seemed to be a new secret hidden around every corner. This comforted her though, reminding her of Hogwarts and its unpredictability. She wondered if every wizarding home was this way. She wouldn’t know; she had never even been invited over to a wizard’s house, not even Dorcas’s, and in the current climate she didn’t see that happening anytime soon. 

The redhead knocked on the doorframe of the only open door in the hallway, alerting Mary, who was on duty in the Hospital, to her presence. The cherubic girl had a round face and blond curls cut off at her chin, making her look like she belonged in the 1920s. Sometimes Lily thought that Mary was the only one really cut out for this particular role in the Order; her natural nurturing skills made her the perfect Healer. Mary MacDonald was a former Hufflepuff, a year above Lily in school. She had joined the Order after Lily had been working in the safe house for half a year already; a Muggleborn as well, her family had died in the Derbyshire Massacre of 1979, leaving Mary with no other prospects and a fire burning in her heart for justice. At this moment, her gentle smile was turned towards a rather familiar looking boy with shaggy blonde hair who was smiling wanly back as she held a cool compress to his forehead. 

“Remus?” Lily asked in shock, taking in her old friend’s presence.

It had been over a year since the two of them had talked. Formerly fellow Gryffindor prefects, they had always been good friends. Remus was a shy, intelligent, and kind boy, all traits that Lily valued to the highest degree. Privately, she had always believed that the word that best described him was “demure”, but she had never told him that in case it offended his sense of masculinity. They had bonded over their irritation at the habit of the other Gryffindors of their year of never studying for class, instead depending on their nerve and sheer dumb luck to make it through. Remus and Lily’s perfectionism was a bit of an oddity in their house, a trait that was more commonly seen in Ravenclaw and Slytherin, and they had enjoyed being able to openly admit their petty frustrations. 

Lily never truly understood how Remus could posses all of these characteristics, and yet still run around with the likes of James Potter and Sirius Black. The two boys were picturesque Gryfifindors: irresponsible, arrogant, and utterly charming. They, along with Remus and their other roommate Peter Pettigrew, had the same kind of popularity as a Muggle boy band: based on a rebellious bad-boy image and mysterious exclusivity. They even had given themselves a ridiculously cheesy name: The Marauders. Although Lily generally got along with Remus, and even (every once in a blue moon) the others, the four of them together proved to be the bane of her existence at Hogwarts.

 

Lily had always been viewed as a bit of a freak as a kid. The mothers of her Muggle friends whispered that she was a bit too imaginative for her age, and that strange and unexplainable things seemed to happen around her. Petunia, her older sister, hated anything out of the ordinary, and would bully Lily relentlessly whenever she did anything “freakish”. Consequently, she had entered Hogwarts painfully self-conscious, and hoping for a new start in which she could be anonymous and completely normal (at least, under these new circumstances). 

Unfortunately, the four boys that were the Gryffindor counterparts of her year had no intention of allowing her to stay under the radar. They teased, pranked, and goaded her until the temper that she worked so hard to keep under wraps came out blazing. Their taunting brought out her competitive side, and she ruthlessly crushed them under the weight of her stack of “Outstanding” assignments. She could not stand idly by while they bullied other students, and somehow standing up to them made her a leader in the school. Looking back, she realized she should probably thank them; they had saved her from a life of endless boredom. However, she was not in Gryffindor for nothing, and her pride would never allow that.

Although a bit troublesome, the four boys were Gryffindor to the core, and it was no surprise when they, too, joined the Order. At first she had dreaded having to continue to work with them (she had assumed she would be finally, gloriously free of their harassment after graduation) but after being exiled to Inverness, she only saw them a couple of times a year at the Order meetings that she was able to make when she was not on duty in either the hospital or the pub. 

The past year had not been friendly to Remus Lupin, Lily surmised sadly. A few new scars had cropped up on his face, and he looked even shabbier than he had in school. If he was standing in the middle of a field, she might have mistaken him for a scarecrow. 

“Evans!” the young man replied, cracking a weary smile, “I was wondering when you’d show up. I was beginning to think you were avoiding me.” 

“Oh nonsense, silly boy,” Lily smiled teasingly back, “If I had known you were here I would have come running in a heartbeat.” She turned to Mary now, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because you would have come running in a heartbeat,” Mary teased, “The lads brought him yesterday afternoon, while you were still asleep. Dorcas and I didn’t want to wake you, we haven’t seen you sleep more than four hours in nearly three weeks, and we were just so relieved⎯”

“Yes, yes, and then I was on duty in the pub and it didn’t make sense, yes,” Lily interrupted, squirming nervously in her seat. She didn’t want Mary to broadcast her insomnia to the rest of the Order, she couldn’t stand to look weak in a group were her very blood made her a liability. “Speaking of rest, shift is over Mary, off to bed with you,” the redhead said, shooing her friend away. The blonde gave her a stern look, knowing that she was changing the subject on purpose, but letting it go for now. She gathered up her healing potions, bidding them both goodnight, even as the first hints of sunrise began to bloom. She turned back before she exited, looking at Remus to say, “ Make sure she eats, please.”

“Why’d you tell him?” she protested, “I’m the caretaker here!”

“Oh Lily, we all know that you can take care of anyone but yourself,” Mary laughed, as if it was the most obviously thing in the world. Remus grinned back in agreement. Lily felt like she was still missing the joke here.

“Oh, go away Mary, leave me with my secret lover,” Lily cried dramatically, flinging her arms around Remus. She withdrew hastily when he flinched a bit from the unexpected contact. She giggled at him, “Oops, sorry lover.”

“I always knew you were into a Marauder, I just had my money on the wrong one,” Mary giggled, grinning conspiratorially at the boy. He grinned back, and once again Lily felt like she was being left out.

“Oi! You! Bed!” the redhead commanded Mary, who yawned as if on cue and waved goodbye. Lily turned back to her new ward. “Now, Remus, I am going to need you to spend the next eight hours filling me in on every detail of they outside world,” she stated, placing her hand commandingly (but more gently this time) on his arm, “I have not left this damn bar in weeks. Maybe months. Is the sun still warm? I remember it used to be like that.” She grinned, letting him know that she was joking, even though it felt painfully true sometimes. 

“Are you not going to even ask what battle your brave hero has returned from?” Remus joked, pretending to flex his arms. 

Lily laughed, but her eyes flickered to the window automatically where the moon was descending to make way for the sun. She thought it was rather obvious why he had shown up: the night before had been the full moon, and she assumed that this was the kind of discreet healing ward that a werewolf would appreciate for their recovery. 

Although Remus had never explicitly told her he was a werewolf, she had guessed pretty early on. One of the benefits of being an insomniac was that she knew pretty much everything that went on in the castle at night, and more than once had seen Remus making his way to the Whomping Willow with Madam Pomfrey at his side on the night of the full moon. It was pretty easy to put the pieces together, and she had figured it out halfway through second year. He had never told her, though, and she had never pressed. She guarded her own privacy ferociously, and felt no need to ask a question that she already knew the answer to if it was only going to make him feel uncomfortable.

She remembered one night, at the beginning of sixth year, when she had been sitting in the common room early in the morning. As it often did, Lily’s anxieties about her school, work, family, and generally uncertain future was keeping her mind too occupied to relax and fall asleep. She refused to use the sleeping draughts that her roommates often tried to slip her, claiming they made her brain feel hazy the next day. Instead, she had a system where if she could not get to sleep by two in the morning she just pulled an all-nighter. The adrenaline high would get her through the rest of the day, and she was usually gloriously exhausted by the end of the day and was able to sleep through the night. She knew it was an unhealthy habit, and vowed every weekend to finally get her sleep schedule back on track, but never seemed to follow through.

On this particular night, she had used a charm she had come up with to amplify the light of the full moon to do her homework by. She preferred the cool white light of the moon to the sleepy warmth of the fire; it gave her an edge that helped her to focus on her work. If she wasn’t going to sleep, might as well be productive. She had watched several hours earlier as Remus had been walked down to the Willow. She could tell by his limping gait that it was going to be a rough transformation, and had written a note to remind herself to charm her collection of chocolates to show up in his school bag randomly throughout the following day. 

Lily jumped when the portrait hole suddenly creaked open, her green eyes open wide like a startled doe as she whipped her head around to take in the intruders. The three boys walking in weren’t exactly intruders, she supposed they had just as much right to be in the common room as she did. However, Lily viewed this time at night as so private that it felt like a crime for anyone to encroach on it. The guilty looks on the faces of James, Sirius, and Peter only seemed to further this belief, and the redhead drew herself up to begin one of her famous tirades about being out after curfew. She had even opened her mouth, but stopped herself when she remembered what night it was: full moon. No matter how furious their blatant disregard for rules made her, and how much they risked the House Cup, she realized that more than likely they were out in order to support their werewolf friend in some capacity. 

James Potter had stepped in front of his two friends protectively, staring her down as if daring her to berate them. She met his stare proudly, making sure he knew that she did not approve of his rule breaking, before give him a small nod. He nodded back cautiously, and she turned back towards her homework. All she had to do was tell herself very firmly that no, she had never seen these boys, and suddenly the whole encounter had never happened.

“What the hell was that?” Sirius had whispered fervently, presumably to James. He said nothing, and soon Lily heard their feet on the stairs and the door to their dormitory closing.

 

Remus coughed awkwardly, bringing Lily back to the present. She briefly wondered why she had fixated on that memory in particular, but Lily had always made a point to actively avoid analyzing herself too much, and just let it slide. There were more important things at hand, including the guilty and slightly fearful look on her friend’s face.

“Remus,” she began somberly. The werewolf immediately tensed up, and she sighed sadly, “Remus, I am so sorry. I figured it out in second year, I didn’t mean to, and I promise I never told anyone. I know it’s your secret to tell, I am so sorry for prying.” Lily looked ashamedly at her hands, hoping that her friend could find it in his heart to forgive her. She kept in mind however, the old Muggle saying: curiosity killed the cat.

“Wait, are you being serious?” Remus scoffed in what Lily assumed was an indignant tone, “Second year?”  
“I know, I understand if you are angry, but I promise I never told⎯”

Lily was suddenly enveloped in a strong hug. Remus released her, still holding her by the shoulders and staring at her in wonder. “You knew the whole time? And never treated me any differently? Lily, you do realize how completely rare that is for me, right?”

“Well, you never held me acting like a totally insane woman around your friends against me so we’re even,” Lily blurted out, immediately embarrassed, but incredibly pleased when it made her friend bark with laughter.

“You know, James always told me you knew. He said you figured it out in sixth year. We always figured he was just making it up because⎯” Remus stopped himself, clearing his throat awkwardly before continuing, “Anyways, sorry for keeping it from you all those years. The usual reaction I get is horror and disgust, not hugs, so…” He trailed off for a moment, before a wide grin spread across his face as he realized, “You were the one who always made sure I had chocolate in my bag, weren’t you?”

She grinned back, although her cheeks were pink with embarrassment, “It was the only way I could take care of you, I am a compulsive mother-er.”

“Well, I appreciate it,” he said, “Although, I think Sirius ended up eating most of it, the bugger.”

“Speaking of buggers, where is the rest of your little gang?”

“We’re not a gang,” Sirius said smoothly as he swept into the room, “We are a secret gentleman’s society.”

“I don’t think anyone could call you gentlemen and keep a straight face,” Lily snorted, smiling at the new arrival. He was dressed impeccably, as always, in a set of plush black robes over a tailored pinstriped suit. It never ceased to amaze her how far wizarding society was behind the Muggle world, particularly when it came to fashion. It seemed like they were just now reaching the 1920’s. 

“You wound me, Evans,” Sirius replied, solemnly placing a hand over his heart. Peter had trailed in next, wearing blown robes over a brown tweed suit. The combination was almost overwhelmingly plain. His jolly grin at the sight of his friends made up for it, though; for all his faults, Peter had a truly lovely smile.

“I think your ego can handle a few blows,” Lily said, rolling her eyes at the dark-haired man, “In fact, it’s so formidable I think I could spend three hours a day doing nothing but insult you, and you wouldn’t even flinch.” She turned to the other man next, smiling kindly, “Hello Peter, it’s nice to see you again.”

“You too, Evans,” the young wizard replied, smiling abashedly. He was not used to being so directly singled out amongst the overpowering personalities of his friends.

James Potter was the last of the Marauders to enter the room. He looked just as he did during the school days: shirt carelessly rumpled and unbuttoned at the top, with his tie hanging loose around his neck, jet black hair mussed as if he had just flown through a hurricane, and somehow, despite being a wizard his entire life, he had once again forgotten his robes. “Padfoot, you’ll never guess who I ran into earlier today at the Order meeting. Emmeline Vance, remember her? Great arse, even better snog⎯” he stopped mid-sentence when he saw Lily seated primly in the center of his friends, as if holding court. “Fuck. I mean⎯shit. I just⎯Merlin.” The messy-haired boy turned around and walked right out of the room.

“What the bloody hell was that?” Lily asked the three other wizards, who had expressions varying from amusement to absolute horror. 

“Nothing,” Peter and Remus said at the same time that Sirius stated, “I’ll deal with it,” and strode out of the room. The three remaining sat in awkward silence, pretending not to hear the (loud) conversation trailing in from the hallway.

 

“Shit, Padfoot, what the hell is she doing here?”

“Don’t look at me, Prongs, I just got here too! Using context clues, though, I would say that she is one of the Order members on duty here.”

“But she’s supposed to be in Inverness!”

“We are in Inverness!”

“I thought this was Galway?”

“Definitely Inverness.”

“Shit.”

“You should really watch your language, Prongs, you are becoming a right foul-mouth.” This was delivered with a heavy dose of sarcasm. “Also, your geography could use some work.”

“Shut up, Pads. I never would have agreed to bring Moony here if I had known she was going to be here. You know I can never keep my head on straight when I’m around her.”

“Well, it’s too late now, so grow some bollocks and get back in there.” There was a sigh, and the two wizards re-entered the room. 

Lily was horrified to realize that tears had slowly been growing in her eyes as she listened to this encounter. Before anyone could utter a word, she stood up abruptly, saying coldly, “Happy to see you too, Potter. I’ll be back in an hour to check on you, Remus.” With her back ramrod straight, she strode out of the room before a single tear could fall.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has read, reviewed, and hit kudos! It is quite a thrill, knowing there are people out there actually reading this thing. I have the next few chapters typed out already, so I am going to try and update as quickly as possible. Let me know what you think about James's POV. I am not planning on having a whole lot of it, he is mostly a mirror for us to get a more honest view of Lily (she does not have a great self image) but let me know if he seems too dull. Thanks again for reading!

2.

Lily sat cross-legged on the concrete floor of the room she had converted into a potions laboratory, books and ingredients piled around her as she slowly stirred the potion in front of her, a silvery haze hanging over the room. She had her hair piled on the top of her head, with her wand stuck through it to hold it in place. Lily had spent most of her shift in this exact position, checking in on Remus every hour but doing her best to avoid the rest of the Marauders. She was angry: at James for saying such rude things, at the other lads for saying nothing to defend her, but mostly she was angry at herself for allowing the words of others to make her feel small.

In school, not a day went by that she heard someone mutter “mudblood” as she walked by. Of course, only a small percentage of the school resorted to such obscenities, but it was a rather loud percentage. She had grown a thick skin, and was hardly bothered by any of it by the time she had graduated. In fact, she had become well-versed in her own biting comebacks.

But she had grown complacent in the bubble of Inverness. She knew all of the wizards and witches in the area, and all of them knew her. More than that, they all respected and adored her, saw her as a talented witch running a successful business and leading a revolution to boot. When they looked at her, they saw a witch who had it all together (which, depending on the day, she either found absolutely hilarious or terribly depressing). It was superficial, but Lily liked being liked, _needed_ to be liked. When she had enough people admiring her, asking her how she was able to do it all, she could forget for one second that there were hundreds, perhaps thousands of people who disliked her simply because of the blood that ran through her veins.

James Potter had brought all of that crashing back. She knew he wasn’t prejudiced against Muggleborns, obviously, he _was_ a proud member of the Order. Still, it had been a long time since someone had been _that_ reluctant to be in the same room with her. It stung, and brought back a barrage of teenage insecurities that she thought she had grown out of. James always was very skilled at that, getting under her skin.

The messy-haired boy had always been quite unpredictable around her, which was why Lily always found it so hard to deal with him. One day he would tease her or play some silly prank, behaving as if his sole purpose in life was to cause her as much embarrassment as possible. He charmed her quills to write obscenities every three words, and died her hair a horrifying green with an (impressively) complex transfiguration spell that took her three days to reverse. He even asked her out in the most obnoxious ways just to get a rise out of her. She was positive that the reason she had been asked on so few dates was that he had made the whole idea of dating her into some kind of joke.

When it came to James Potter, Lily had an embarrassingly short fuse. She would positively erupt, forgetting that they were in the middle of Charms or seated at the Halloween feast. She would make a fool of herself in front of the whole school (which she knew was his ultimate goal). She was amazed that after all of the scenes she made that she made, that she had been picked as a prefect, let alone Head Girl. It was even more mind-blowing that she retained the respect of the school, that they listened to her authority. She decided that wizards and witches must have incredibly low standards when it came to leadership abilities (if the current Minister of Magic was anything to judge by).

The day after a fight, James would hardly talk to her, even actively avoid her. Walk right out of rooms like he had earlier that day. It made her feel as if _she_ was the one in the wrong, which she knew was ridiculous but did not soothe her guilt.

And then, suddenly he would act perfectly charming again and worm his way back into her good graces, despite herself. She blamed his smile; it was to die for, and truly unfair. Nasty boys like James Potter should not have such nice smiles. After a few days, he would be back at his old tricks, starting the whole cycle over again.

It was unfair, Lily thought. Everyone seemed to like James, even McGonnagal who hardly like anyone, but he always acted so beastly towards her. He had grown out of his bullying ways by seventh year, true, but he still didn’t seem able to act like a normal human being around her.

It all was enough to make a girl’s head spin.

“Shit,” she muttered as the potion she was tending to turned a deep cerulean rather than the robin’s egg blue she was hoping for. She must have miscounted her stirs. Damn Potter. Lily pulled her wand from her hair, letting it tumble down around her shoulders, and vanished the ruined potion from the cauldron. Laying back against the cool stone, she covered her eyes and let out a loud groan of frustration.

Lily sometimes felt guilty about how much she enjoyed her job as Potions Mistress for the Order. She was given access to any resources she needed, and given the leeway to experiment as much as she pleased. She had actually been incredibly surprised when Professor Dumbledore had approached her at the end of one of the Order meetings. He said he had learned from Professor Slughorn that she had a tendency to tweak different potions she worked on, and from Professor Flitwick that she like to invent new charms and weave new spells. Dumbledore told her that the Death Eaters had recently acquired their own Potions Master (Lily tried to fool herself into thinking it could be anyone, that it wasn’t _him_ ) and that she would need to anticipate his next move, and try to get ahead of the Death Eaters with her own innovations. The Headmaster had not said it out loud, but at the end of his speech she had heard an impied “ _using any means necessary_ ”. For the first time, Lily wondered if perhaps Professor Dumbledore hadn’t been a Gryffindor after all.

It did not take long for Lily to realize there was no use in denying it: Sev was the Dark Lord’s new Potions Master. The Death Eaters fought with new spells, and used unknown poisons that had her former best friend’s distinctive style. She was ashamed of it, but sometimes it felt like she was playing her favorite childhood game with him. One would name a potion or a spell, and the other would have to name the antidote or countercurse. If they didn’t know the cure, they would often run down to the dungeons and experiment to find one. As they grew older, the came up with their own spells and potions, making it even more difficult (and thrilling). It sometimes felt like it was an intricate game of chess between Lily and Sev, this war.

Sometimes she forgot that the pieces in the game were her friends.

This fact made what Lily was working on in the lab even more important. After lying on the ground for a minute longer, the redhead removed her hands and steeled herself to sit up and get back to work when she caught sight of a figure in the doorway. Seeing the rumpled mess of James Potter, all she could do was groan again. Of course he was there at the moment of her complete failure. He stared at her, opening and closing his mouth several times, but unable to make words come out. “What do you want, Potter?” she snapped in irritation.

“I, um, I just wanted to apologize for earlier,” he stumbled, running a hand through his hair nervously. Lily hated when he did that, he was so vain about his hair. “I know it must have sounded horrible, I really am an arse sometimes. But I was just,” he paused, trying to think of the right thing to say, “ _surprised_ , I guess, to see you here.”

“Honestly, I shouldn’t be that shocked by now that prat is your default setting. It’s fine,” Lily responded awkwardly. She didn’t know why he was making such an effort to apologize in the first place. Remus would be well enough to leave in a few hours, and they wouldn’t have to talk to each other until the next Order meeting they both attended, which could be months from then. Lily much preferred to just let uncomfortable moments like that stew until she had built up enough of a tolerance for it to no longer bother her. This seemed unnecessarily painful.

“Right. Well, um, sorry again. I thought I should clear the air, seeing as we will be working together quite a bit. I guess I’ll be going⎯”

That had Lily’s attention. She shot to her feet, standing so quickly that she found her head swimming a bit. James grabbed her elbow as she swayed in place, and his hand was shockingly warm against her perpetually cold skin. His touch immediately steadied her. In fact, for one glorious moment Lily felt completely still; her mind, which usually ran at the speed of light trying to stay one step ahead of madness that was the world at the moment, was silent.

Then James removed his hand, and the buzzing was back. “What was it you said?” Lily asked, still slightly dazed from the whiplash of that moment of silence. James had taken three steps back after helping Lily up, and was repeatedly wiping his hands on his trousers. She blushed a bit at that. She knew she hadn’t showered in awhile but she didn’t realize it was _that_ obvious.

“Oh, well, you see, Dumbledore, or the Order that is, although Dumbledore is the head of the Order so I guess it really was him that⎯”

“Merlin, Potter!” Lily snapped suddenly, interrupting him, “Think before you speak, or it’s going to take two hours that I _do not_ have to get an explanation out you! We’ve known each other for nine year now, it is not that hard to talk!”

“Patience is a virtue, Evans,” James snapped back, but the signature smirk that had appeared on his face told Lily that he had gotten over whatever had been making him fumble over his words. “As I was saying, there seems to be some Death Eater activity in the area, and Dumbledore has asked the lads and I to investigate it a bit. Sirius and I are still in the Auror academy, and Remus and Peter are almost always working, but when we have free time we will be around her to follow some leads.”

“ I hadn’t heard about any Death Eater activity,” the redhead replied, shocked. Inverness was a pretty close-knit community, and she was usually informed of all that happened in the area. Or, if people didn’t tell her directly she at least overheard it at the pub. Being a barmaid placed Lily in a prime position for eavesdropping; after two drinks, patrons tended to view her as a piece of furniture.

“The Clearwaters’ place was trashed. No one was hurt, they weren’t home at the time, but it seemed like a close call. David’s father had fallen ill, so they had to rush to St. Mungo’s that morning.”

“Was there a Dark Mark?”

“No, but there was anti-Muggleborn vandalism all over the place. They’ve relocated, still in the city but moved flats. The same thing happened to Angus Fletcher, Mundungus’s cousin, and Grace Boot. Neither of them would leave the city, either. I guess they’re trying to keep it quiet so they don’t worry everyone else.”

“Why would they leave Inverness?” Lily asked, confused as to why this was even a question. It seemed to her that this was an oasis for the minority group of wizards and witches, as safe a place as they could get outside of Hogwarts.

“Well, there is a huge concentration of Muggleborns and halfbloods here, it’s just asking for trouble,” the bespectacled wizard reasoned.

“That’s ridiculous, we should be able to congregate wherever we want without _asking for trouble_!” Lily shouted, aghast. “I mean, we are practically segregating ourselves from the rest of wizarding society, isn’t that enough?” She sat back down, taking out her frustrations by violently grinding up the Asphodel root she needed to use in her next potion.

James held his hands up, protesting innocence, “I’m not disagreeing with you, those are just the facts. When the war moves farther north, this city will become a target.” He took a seat next to her, not close enough for their shoulders to actually be touching, but close enough for Lily to once again feel James’s warmth. She took a deep, steadying breath, feeling her blood pressure level out a bit.

“You said when, not if. Is it really getting that bad?” Lily asked in a small voice.

“Yeah,” James said shortly. A dark look crossed his face as he continued, “Edgar Bones and his entire family were found murdered last week. Dark Mark over their house, which was burnt to the ground.”

“Not Edgar!” Lily gasped, thoroughly shocked. The Bones was a prominent and well-respected pureblood family, with a history that stretched back just as far as the Blacks and Malfoys. Edgar, a Hufflepuff, had been Head Boy during her second year at Hogwarts, and had worked his way up to head of the Muggle Liasion Office in the Ministry. A fierce advocate for Muggleborn and Squib’s rights, Edgar Bones was also one of the kindest men Lily had ever known. He had been a calming influence for everyone at the intense Order of the Phoenix meetings, countering Alastor Moody’s paranoid (although reasonably so) warnings with a gentle reminder that everyone had the capacity to do good in their lives, it was just up to them to draw it out of others. “If the Death Eaters can get to someone like Edgar…”

“It makes you wonder if anyone is safe anymore,” James finished for her. “That’s what we’re so worried about. Moody thinks that the Magical Law Enforcement Office has been compromised. Their investigation into the murder was half-assed at best.” The two of them sat in silence processing the information and its implications for the war. After awhile, the messy-haired wizard squirmed in his seat, seemingly desperate for a subject change. Lily didn’t blame him: as an Auror-in-training, he must eat, sleep, and breathe this kind of nightmarish news. “What is it you’re making?”

Lily seized upon the opportunity, happy to lose herself to thoughts of magical theory. “Draught of Living Death. Or, at least, a variation of it. I’m trying to figure out how to turn it into a mist without losing its potency. If I get this right, we could weaponize it as a gas; release it on the battlefield, and you could win without having to throw a single curse. Or you could use it to infiltrate a building, because it’s not technically a spell it could sneak past the wards. At least, if I can get the damn thing right,” she said grumpily, kicking at the cauldron in front of her.

“That’s brilliant,” James breathed with an expression of admiration on his face that inexplicably warmed Lily to her toes. She blamed her painful insecurity, she was a beggar for words of affirmation. He continued, “Although a bit terrifying. How did you come up with it?”

“I was partially inspired by mustard gas. It’s an invention that Muggles used during World War I to incapacitate the enemy. It had a lot nastier side effects than a deep sleep though.” Lily shuddered slightly as she recalled the images of mutilated soldiers she had come across while researching the scientific theory behind it.

“I didn’t know that Muggles had wars. What in the world do they fight about?”

Lily was always half amused, half distraught at how clueless pureblood wizards were about the Muggle world. They seemed to think that Muggles lived like cavemen, too simple to have the same desires and ambitions as wizards. Lily bit back a sarcastic retort about the ethnocentrism of the comment, and sighed in exasperation instead. “The same reason as wizards, really: power. It just manifests itself in the form of class and race issues rather than blood purity,” Lily explained, trying out the novel concept of patience. She truly believed that ignorance was the reason that anti-Muggle sentiment had gotten so out of control, and knew that one of her strongest weapons in this war was education.

James considered this for a bit, mulling it over before switching back to the more immediate subject of the potion, “You said it was partially inspired by that mustard gas thing. What was the other part?”

Lily hesitated for a moment. She knew that this was a bit of a sensitive subject, but for some reason she felt like being honest with James. Maybe it was because he had been so honest with her earlier, or maybe she was just feeling bored and spoiling for a fight. Once again, she decided to actively not read too far into her motives. “Well, Sev and I use to, um, experiment a bit. We were able to combine a Pepper-Up potion and a cheering charm and turn it into a kind of laughing gas. It terribly amusing, actually.”

“Wait, so are you telling me you were influenced by a bloody Death Eater?” James demanded, aghast. He pulled an ugly, judgmental expression that looked so wrong on his handsome face, and infuriated Lily.

“Who are you to judge?” she shouted at him angrily, “Aren’t the Aurors considering using Unforgivables? At least _I’m_ trying to be as tame as possible! And anyways, he wasn’t a Death Eater then.” She said the last part quietly, becoming a bit sullen.

“That bastard has always been Dark,” James muttered in disgust.

“Oh, shut up! You arrogant, bullying, spoiled toerag! You have no idea what he has been through!” Lily found that she had risen to her feet. She supposed her subconscious was trying to give her a more literal interpretation of moral high ground. Especially since this was a bit of a morally ambiguous topic. Yes, Severus had a rough life. That was no excuse for becoming a bloody terrorist, though. Plenty of people had rough lives, they simply wrote a memoir and moved on. In all honesty, her argument was a complete knee-jerk reaction rather than an expression of her current feelings. However, Gryffindor pride once more got in the way of reasonable thought, which would dictate in this situation to apologize. Lily hated apologies anyways, both giving and receiving them. She was a firm believer in the old saying “actions speak louder than words”. That was one of the main reasons that her and Sev’s relationship had fallen apart: he would apologize until he was blue in the face without ever changing a single thing.

Lily realized that she had been standing for at least a minute now, glaring at James. He seemed to be taking it all in stride, simply staring. Perhaps he was having flashbacks to all of the previous fights that had ended in this same way. Well, both of them knew what came next.

She stormed out of the room, huffing as loudly as possible. She much preferred being angry at James; it was the easiest way to deal with him, in her opinion. She felt incredibly childish, but was too stubborn and embarrassed to turn back. Anyways, it was time for her to check on Remus. She glanced at the thin silver watch on her wrist. It seemed it was the end of her shift. She had a couple of errands to run, and then she was free to get some sleep.

Lily smiled dreamily as she made her way to the Hospital Wing, fantasizing about her bed. Perhaps this day was redeemable after all.

 

* * *

 

 

James glanced at his watch after the fuming redhead had left the room. _Eighteen whole minutes of real conversation_ , he thought, absurdly happy, _that might be a new record_. Of course, the conversation had ended horribly, but James had learned pretty early on that just tended to happen around Lily. He had chronic foot-in-mouth syndrome, it was simply impossible for him to not say something completely stupid or inappropriate. Their conversations usually started with a confrontation, and ended with one of them storming away, but those middles. Ah, he lived for the middles.

It was a bittersweet moment for James, walking into Remus’s room and finding Lily there. On the one hand, the feeling he got when he was around her was irreproducible. No matter how many dangerous Auror or Order missions he went on, no matter how many full moons he ran with the Marauders, no matter how many floozy girls he snogged, James would never be able to replicate the adrenaline rush he felt when he caught sight of those fiery locks and dazzling green eyes. It was like all of his senses went into a frenzy, and he felt like he could fight a mountain troll barehanded.

On the other hand, he had hoped that after two years he would have gotten over her. At least a tiny bit. It was crippling, being around her. The feeling of being able to do anything only made him act like a cocky bastard, and his brain was so overstimulated that he forgot to censor anything he said. He would do something completely ridiculous to get her attention, then completely avoid her in embarrassment, then overcompensate and try to win her back by acting like a smarmy ponce. Encounters with her sometimes felt like an out-of-body experience, where he had no control over his actions (like the time that he asked her out by the lake after the Snape thing…eurgh). It was no coincidence that James always got into the most trouble in Hogwarts when he was around the accursed redhead.

That had been the pattern until seventh year, at least. Dumbledore made him Head Boy, and although James hadn’t understood it at the time, he now knew that the Headmaster had been grooming him for a leadership role, both in the Aurory and the Order. James did his best to live up to his title, and liked to think that he had left Hogwarts at least a little better than he had found it. Or, at least, that he cleaned up as many messes as he made. Breaking even was good, too.

But Lily didn’t even notice the change in him. Honestly, James probably could have stood in front of her stark naked and she wouldn’t even blink. In fact, he and the lads had run starkers through one of her Care of Magical Creatures classes (banishing charm on their clothing courtesy of the Slytherin Quidditch team…it may or may not have been revenge for putting itching powder in their drawers, but nothing was ever proven) and all she gave him was a single absent look before turning back to her horklump. It would have injured James ego terribly if he hadn’t been propositioned by three separate girls immediately afterwards. Still, it stung.

To be fair, Lily didn’t notice much of anything that year. She had come back from the summer a changed woman, somber and vacant. She was an intensely private person (something that incensed James immensely, nosy bastard that he was), and nobody ever actually figured out what had happened, but it suddenly felt like there an Imperturbable spell surrounding her.

Lily had always stood apart from the crowd. She was a force of nature, simple as that: her kindness was simultaneously soft and fiercely passionate, her curiosity that of both a sharp intellectual and an innocent child, and despite obsessively trying to control everything in her life she was unwittingly self-sacrificing. Even those who called her a mudblood or were mutinously jealous of her could not help but be caught in her orbit.

In seventh year, though, Lily was suddenly untouchable. She seemed to take no notice of the world around her, and was only going through the motions. James was honestly a bit shocked when she joined the Order; he wasn’t sure that she had enough fire left in her to fight such an uphill battle.

James had kept track of her over the years, of course (the lads called him a stalker but he had not _routinely_ taken to following her so he said it technically wasn’t an applicable classification). Even thousands of miles between them could not release him from the powerful magnetism that drew him to the infuriating redhead. In the back of his mind, he always knew exactly where Lily was. Which was why he had been so absolutely stunned to walk in and see her amongst his friends. Disoriented, that’s what he was.

Cue the foot-in-mouth syndrome.

The messy-haired wizard sighed loudly. There was nothing to do about it now. He had apologized, which Sirius always told him was all birds were looking for when they threw a hissy fit. Anyways, it was time to shake off the Lily-and-sleep deprivation induced fog surrounding his brain and get back to the Ministry. Moody was trying to push James and the rest of his class in the training academy through the program as quickly as possible; they were losing Aurors in the field at an alarming rate. Moody himself had even lost a leg (not that it slowed him down one bit, he hadn’t even taken a sick day). James tried to ignore the fact that he couldn’t he hadn’t slept in over twenty-four hours, instead taking the steps out of the pub two at a time before apparating away from the small Scottish town.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends! Here is the third chapter, I am trying to bang out as many as I can to begin with since I am currently on spring break (last semester in university!) and have the free time. I also know it is nearly twice as long as the other chapters, but I just couldn't split it up, I wanted to get my plot moving along! Thank you to everyone who has read, given kudos, and reviewed! Enjoy!

3.

 

There was a chirping in Lily’s ear as the charmed paper birds she had created whirred around her head, picking at her hair with their folded beaks in an imitation of the birds in her favorite childhood movie, Cinderella. She had convinced herself that if she was woken up like a princess, perhaps one day she would wake up with some sort of princess-like grace.

Today was not that day.

With a groan, Lily rolled right off her bed and hit the floor. Thankfully, it was a short drop since her bed consisted of a full size mattress propped on the floor, a single sheet and a blanket hand-knitted by her late mother crumpled on top. This fall had become a part of her morning ritual, for the chilled stone floor woke her right up. Bleary-eyed, Lily _accio_ -ed various articles of clothing from around the room to her, hoping as she pulled them on that they somewhat went together. With a twirl of her wand, her crimson locks curled at the ends and the makeup that she had neglected to wash off the night before was refreshed.

Lily made her way down the stairs, wincing slightly as she caught sight of herself in one of the mirrors in the hallway (apparently all the hair and makeup charms in the world could not hide the fact that she had not showered in three days), and crashed through the concealed doorway into the Mucky Duck. Many people hailed her as she made her way behind the bar, but she refused to acknowledge anyone before she had made herself a cup of tea.

“You’re never going to keep yourself awake with that weak leaf water,” a familiar, distinctively American voice called to her, “You can’t really call yourself a functioning insomniac until you have a physical addiction to coffee.”

In a whirl of crimson curls, Lily whipped her head around to face the speaker, a smile on her face so wide it made her cheeks hurt. “Benjy!” she shouted, launching herself over the bar to tackle him into a hug, “You’re back!”

With his trim blonde hair and square jaw, all wrapped up in snug jeans and a daring black leather jacket, Benjamin Fenwick looked like the picture-perfect All-American Boy. Lily had first met him two months into her station at Inverness. In school, Lily had been a strait-laced rule follower, bit of a swot in all honesty, and that extended to underage drinking. So, she had been served all of one drink in her lifetime when she was suddenly tasked with running a wizarding pub.

To say that Lily was out of her element would be an understatement. She was just about to serve gigglewater to a woman who had ordered gillywater, what would be her fifth screw-up of the night, when a suave young man with a cheeky grin had blocked her way. “People are never going to believe this is actually just a pub if you can’t get their drinks right.”

At the time, it was just Lily and Dorcas running the place, which meant they spent twelve hours in the hospital and twelve hours in the pub, stealing one or two hours of sleep when off-duty Order members found time to cover them for a bit.

So, when Lily was working that evening she had not slept in a little under forty hours. Under normal circumstances, she would have flirted with the handsome young man, or at least suspiciously asked what he meant.

Instead, she threw the drink she was carrying right into his face.

“Oh Merlin, I am _so_ sorry,” Lily cried, coming to herself as she watched champagne-soaked man sputter and laugh, “I don’t know what came over me! Here¾” She pulled the man into the back room and worked frantically on cleaning him off with soda water and a towel. She stopped herself after a few seconds and looked at the cleaning supplies in her hands in despair, before breaking down in big heaving sobs. “What a bloody fool I am,” the redhead bawled, “You must think I am just some stupid Muggleborn, doesn’t know how to use even the simplest cleaning spells-” Completely overcome with exhaustion and emotion, she rested her head on the bemused and bewildered man’s shoulder and cried and cried and cried.

And that was how Lily met Benjy.

After Lily had cried two months worth of frustrations out, and Benjy had sent her to bed for a couple of hours while he covered the pub, it was revealed that the American boy had recently joined the Order of the Phoenix, and that he was meant to be the new addition to the Inverness staff. Benjy explained that he was from Oklahoma, where his family owned a mooncalf farm, a former student of the American wizarding school Ilvermorny, and that he had come over across the pond to help out in the war efforts.

In the United States, he explained, the wizarding community is so far-flung that it became only natural for them to mix with Muggle society. Muggleborns were not looked down upon, but celebrated because their different upbringing brought a unique perspective to their magical studies, which led to more innovation within the school and society. Although a pureblood, Benjy’s father had even named him after Benjamin Franklin because he said that the moment that Muggles figured out how electricity worked was the moment that they had surpassed wizarding society.

Benjy had spent two years after graduation working through the Auror Academy in the States, but decided to pursue justice on the global scale rather than local, and sought out the Order of the Phoenix. Benjy believed the reason that the Grindewald wars had gotten so out of hand was the isolationist ideals held by the many different wizarding societies around the world. Instead of uniting in the fight against the Dark wizards wreaking havoc across Europe, MACUSA and other magical ministries had condemned the countries affected and tightened their own borders, so as not to let the ‘disease’ of Dark magic spread.

“If everyone just got off their asses and actually lent a hand,” Benjy had told her as he fixed her first proper gin and tonic at the bar that night, “This ‘Voldemort’ guy would be gone in a week!”

Benjy had spent four months at the Inverness Safe House, teaching Lily not only how to make a proper drink, but how to live as a semi-functional adult. She learned how to magically brew the perfect cup of coffee in five seconds flat, how to write a grocery list and actually stick to it, and he helped her open up a real bank account at Gringotts (she had previously been living out of a sack that she kept all of her gold in, buried at the bottom of her old school trunk).

In the beginning of their relationship, when they thought they might have a romantic future ahead of them, he taught her how to kiss. Later, after they tried to take it further one night and ended up laughing uncontrollably at the sight of each other naked and realized they were definitely not meant to be, he taught her how to pick up guys at the pub. After he ran into her room in the middle of one of her night terrors, he taught her that it was much easier to breathe at night when someone’s arms were around her.

He was brash and cocky, and so idealistic sometimes it made Lily’s heart bleed. This was not his war; it wasn’t his country, it wasn’t even his blood. Yet he was risking his life every day because he simply believed it was the right thing to do. Lily simply couldn’t help but to love him.

After Mary had joined them at Inverness, Benjy had been sent abroad to garner more support for the Order all around the world, and to gain intel on what kind of support Voldemort had as well. He always made an effort to come by the Mucky Duck whenever he had a couple of days off, but it was never enough for Lily.

Benjy was lucky that she had missed him so much because if he had normally swept her up in his arms and given her a deep kiss, she would have hexed him across the bar. Instead, she just let him get it out of his system for a bit before pushing him away and laughing in his face.

“What the hell, Benjy?” Lily laughed, swatting his arm.

“Sorry,” he smirked, “I accidentally spent the night with a woman who might have been half-hag, and I needed to get the taste out of my mouth.”

“You berk!” she shouted, punching him this time in the arm and demonstratively wiping his kiss of her mouth, “I can’t believe I lost sleep over you!”

“Aw, you missed me, Red?” Benjy asked, pearly whites smiling down at her.

She smiled back, despite herself. “Terribly.” It was then that she noticed the pile of books on the seat next to him. “And you brought me gifts!”

“You didn’t think I’d forget, did you? Your feet must be so sore, you’re constantly running through my mind all day,” he said with a wink.

Lily rolled her eyes at her friend (his jokes were so cheesy that they rivaled her dad’s from back in the day) but she didn’t stop smiling, “Tell me, then, where did you go? I want to hear all about your adventures.”

Benjy had been all around Southern Africa for the past month, being put up at the Ugandan wizarding school, Uagadou (“Wag-a-doo” he made Lily practice pronouncing at least a dozen times. He had learned throughout his travels that nothing insulted a person quite like ignorantly mispronouncing names) as he traveled to the homes of various prominent wizards in their nation and tribe’s communities. Predictably, Benjy had a near endless list of hilarious exploits, the most notably of which involved an unfortunate run-in with a pair of mating erumpets. That, and the many different forms he had been cursed into by the furious (and transfiguration-gifted) witches he had the bad sense to seduce.

On a more serious note, Benjy somberly admitted that he had not found many volunteers for the Order of the Phoenix. It seemed that the African wizards he encountered were having a bit of a war themselves, although theirs was against Mother Nature. Drought had overtaken much of the continent, and famine and disease were running rampant. In much of the region, wizards and witches were still revered as wise men and women, as well as healers, and they maintained positive relationships with the Muggles in their villages. They were doing their best to keep their people alive, but it was requiring all hands on deck. Few wizards and witches were willing to leave their struggling homelands to aid in a civil war that made little sense to them.

The trip was not a total bust though, he pointed out, gesturing towards the massive, ancient tomes he had brought. He explained that most of the witches and wizards in Africa didn’t use wands for their magic; wands were viewed as simply a physical guide that helped direct the user’s magic. Instead, they used their hands, and other physical gestures, to convey their meaning and manifest their magic.

“It’s the intent behind the magic, that’s what I’ve always said!” Lily shouted enthusiastically, lightly slapping her friend on the shoulder to convey her uncontainable excitement at having her theories validated.

“You are an insufferable know-it-all sometimes, did you know that?” Benjy chuckled, to which she stuck her tongue out in response, “I think there should be enough information on wandless magic in there to quench your thirst for knowledge for at least…” he put his hand on his chin as he pretended to ponder this intensely, “About three days. Anyways, enough about me, I want to hear about you! Gone on any exciting missions? Had any good shags lately?”

Lily paused for a moment considering her next few words before continuing in a deliberately casual tone, “I sure am popular today, actually, you’re not the first visitor I’ve had.” She bit her lip, suddenly not quite sure if she really wanted to talk about this or not. Too late, she supposed. Anyways, if she was going to talk to anyone about her surprise guests it would be Benjy.

For some reason she found it easier to talk to him than any of her other friends, even the ones like Marlene McKinnon, Ellie Fate, and Alice Prewett, all of whom she had shared a dormitory with for seven years. Lily wondered if that was perhaps the reason why it was so easy to confide in him: he hadn’t known her when she was top of the class, Head Girl, perfect Lily Evans, only as the anxious, hair-brained young adult that didn’t know how to file her taxes. He also wasn’t caught in the messy web of British wizarding social classes. Because he didn’t know her history or had some preconceived notion of her due to his place in society, he was able to be an objective sounding board. It was a nice bit of fresh air. Truly, there were not nearly enough wizards and witches in Britain, they all knew far too much about each other. That was another reason to be thankful for Muggleborns, she thought, they at least added a bit of variety.

“C’mon, Red, I know you want to tell me something. Stop being such a pansy-ass, out with it,” Benjy said impatiently.

Lily supposed he was also helpful because he called her on her shite (although she did not _always_ appreciate the fact). “Well, you know those boys from school that I’ve told you about? James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew?”

“Oh yeah, the ‘Marauders’ that you’re always bitching about. I still can’t believe they named themselves, they would’ve had their asses kicked if they were back in the U.S. Tell me, did you come up with some memory we haven’t analyzed yet?”

“I do not talk about them _that_ much,” Lily hissed. Her friend only raised his eyebrows at her. “And no, it’s not about something that happened back at Hogwarts. They’re _here_.”

Benjy’s blonde hair was suddenly whipping around as he scanned the room, “You’re kidding, Red! What great timing for me, this is gonna to be gold.” He grinned broadly at her, before a very serious and contemplative look crossed his face.

“What’s wrong, Benj?” Lily asked, immediately concerned.

“Well, I can’t decide whether all the trouble they’ve caused you means I need to shake their hands or kick their asses.” He looked deeply troubled by this.

“Shut up, you prat,” the redhead retorted, rolling her eyes, “Are you going to let me tell you my story or not?”

* * *

“Who the hell is that?” James cried in outrage, watching as Lily fawned all over the tall, blonde man from across the pub. His outfit was positively Muggle, and while usually he did not understand their strange, fleeting fashion trends, James could not deny that the leather jacket the man wore looked _cool_. He felt suddenly self-conscious in the rumpled pieces of what used to be his school uniform. It was the only clean clothing he had in his loft when he left for the full moon with the lads, and he had forgotten a set of robes so he couldn’t even hide underneath those. The whole outfit was so authentic that James might have thought the man _was_ a Muggle if he didn’t know there was a concealment charm that automatically repelled them.

Lily Evans was the only person that had ever made James feel inadequate. Just ten minutes ago he had been his typical confident (bordering on arrogant) self, catching up with his mates and bragging a bit on how well he had done on his last practice Auror practical exam. Then _she_ had walked into the room, wearing a loose, white babydoll dress that was shockingly short for November, and plum stockings with grey saddle shoes. On anyone else the outfit would have looked a bit bizarre, but on Lily it just looked sexy as hell (it did not help that all he could do was focus on the tantalizing expanse of creamy skin stretching from the top of her stocking to the hem of her dress. James had to shift around a bit in seat, trying as casually as possible to readjust his increasingly uncomfortable trousers). Just one look at her, and suddenly he was a puddle of insecurity, running his hand self-consciously through his ridiculously messy hair and stumbling over his words.

No one at the table had bothered to answer his question (they were all a bit too accustomed to his obsessive Lily tendencies, and mostly tuned them out now), so James shoved Sirius, who was sitting next to him, demanding, “Well?”

“Beats me,” Sirius answered through a mouth full of beef stew, “That’s a neat jacket, though. Why don’t we wear those instead of robes?”

“I think he is horridly disfigured and has a terrible personality,” Peter added good-naturedly.

“Thank Wormtail, glad I can count on you,” James replied sarcastically, even though it _did_ make him feel a bit better.

To celebrate Remus’s recovery, the Marauders had decided to have dinner at the Mucky Duck after work (Mary, who had been working the kitchen before Lily came down, also happened to be a fantastic cook, which made it an easy sell. Lily was definitely not, so they had made sure to come before the shift change). The boys had decided to invite their female counterparts from Gryffindor, Marlene McKinnon, Alice Prewett, and Ellie Fate, as well. Marlene and Alice were in the Auror Academy with Sirius and James, so it only made sense to invite them, and Ellie would have pouted considerably if she had been left out, so suddenly they had grown into a group of seven, squeezed around a table meant for four.

“Ooooh, he is yummy though,” Ellie, a pixielike girl with wide blue eyes and carrot-y orange hair, added dreamily, earning her a scowl from the boys. As her last name indicated, she came from a long line of Seers. The magical prowess of the Fate family’s had been diluted a bit over time, but a good enough amount had accumulated in Ellie, despite her mother being a Muggle, that she had nabbed the coveted position of horoscope writer for Witch Weekly.

“Those trousers really show off his fine arse,” Marlene agreed heartily, raising her glass of firewhiskey in a toast in his general direction.

“Marly…” Sirius whined, his lip pushed out in a pout as he rubbed his head against her shoulder like a sad puppy.

“Oh yes, Sirius Black, you have a nice arse as well,” she said in a soothing voice, patting his head consolingly.

Miracle of miracles, the two biggest players in all of Hogwarts had ended up together after their first year in the Academy together. Marlene was a lean but muscular girl, two inches taller than Sirius and madly proud of the fact, always wearing at least four-inch heels on dates to show off the fact. She had chocolate-brown hair that drifted all the way down to her hips, and sharp, straight-across bangs that framed her round face. Her eyes were almost the exact same shade as her hair, which would have looked a bit dull on anyone else, but the mischievous glint that was ever-present in them only made her more alluring. She was the most wicked dueler in their entire Auror class, and when Marlene had hit Sirius with a particularly painful _Furnunculus_ jinx, he asked her out on the spot.

Even before the boils went down which, anyone who knew the extent of Sirius’s vanity, _meant_ something.

“Eurgh,” Alice groaned in distaste as Marlene and Sirius proceeded to snog in full view of everyone. The short girl with a mousy-brown pixie-cut hairstyle was in a serious relationship as well (she and Frank Longbottom, who was a year older than the rest of them, had been dating for nearly three years) but was definitely not the affectionate type, let alone _public_ displays of affection. She was a very no-nonsense type of witch, so much so that her friends called her Mini-McGonnagal (only behind both of the terrifying witches’ backs, though). Everyone secretly pitied Frank a bit; he was kind of a bumbling romantic. Somehow, though, the two seemed to be a perfect fit. 

James snapped his fingers in front of the snogging couple. “Sirius, back to me!” James called, then gestured around to the rest of those at the table, “All of you! We can’t just let Li¾uh, Evans date some random stranger. These are dangerous times! He could be a Death Eater!” He stole another glance at the couple behind the bar, jealousy burning a pit in his stomach as he watched her tuck her scarlet hair behind her ear, then throw her head back in laughter at something the blonde man had said.

“Sorry to break it to you, Potter, but I’ve definitely seen him at more than one Order meeting,” Marlene said, “I’m pretty sure he’s American. Can’t remember his name, though.”

“Okay, still, we don’t let our Gryffindor girls date just anyone!” James reasoned.

Alice snorted into her butterbeer, “Well, you failed on that account with Marly and Sirius.” The couple glared at her, not quite sure which one of them she had been insulting but offended nonetheless.

“Lily is a big girl,” Marlene continued after a moment, “And she had pretty good taste in blokes, to be honest. I would trust her judgment.”

“So, she’s been on a lot of dates?” James asked, trying (too hard) to sound casual.

“Evans turning into a slag on us?” Sirius drawled with a wicked grin.

Marlene hit him on the shoulder, hard enough that he flinched (making the other lads laugh), “Girls can date whomever they please without turning into a slag. Feminism, you twat!” She turned to all the boys now, a dark look on her face, “And you lads can’t scare all the lads off. We’re not in Hogwarts anymore. If anyone wants to make a move,” she gave James a particularly hard stare, “They have that right. Although they better act quick, by the looks of it.”

James fidgeted uncomfortably. It had always been common knowledge that he had fancied Lily since the beginning of time, but the fact that he had struck out with the witch in question an embarrassingly high number of times made talking about his crush (eurgh, James hated that word) particularly painful. It was also well known throughout all of Hogwarts, when they were all in school together, that Lily Evans was off-limits. Having the great mates that he did, they helped him to intimidate and curse every bloke that tried to make a move. These tactics had effectively scared the male population of Hogwarts away from the gorgeous redhead (although alienating her in this way never made her desperate enough to accept a date from him, as he had so wished). Looking back on it, he was right ashamed at how childish he had acted (although he was still glad he had never had to go through the agony of watching Lily snogging another bloke). 

“He has a nice walk,” Ellie suddenly spoke up; she had been sorting her stew by the type of vegetable they were. Everyone at the table looked up to see what she was talking about.

 _Shit_ , James thought frantically. The blonde American was walking straight towards the table, while Lily desperately tried to grab his arm and pull him back to the bar. The man had confident grin on his face that James might even classify as maniacal.

“Oh Merlin, they’re _all_ here,” James heard Lily mutter as the couple came to stand before the table. She was bright pink with embarrassment, which he usually found completely adorable but today made him only feel brassed off; was she embarrassed to for her new boyfriend to meet her friends? James had never taken her for the kind of girl that threw over her mates for some bloke.

Not that James, or even Sirius or Peter qualified as a friend in Lily’s eyes; he knew that, out of the four Marauders, she only really liked Remus. But still, she seemed to be overreacting a bit.

He was therefore thoroughly confused when the man came up and enthusiastically shook all of their hands. “Thank you, each and every one of you, for turning the incomparable Lily Evans into the spitfire she is today.”

“Everyone, this is Benjy Fenwick,” Lily said, fumbling a bit over her words, “We, uh, used to work together here at the safe house.” 

“Oh, the good old days,” Benjy said with a smile, easily slinging an arm over the redhead’s shoulders. Even though Lily was shooting her friend covert glares, James but could not help but feel jealous at the way that the redhead easily leaned into him. “So let me guess: Remus, Peter, Sirius, and…James?” he said as he pointed at each of the Marauders in turn, saving an infuriating smirk for James.

 He felt the inexplicable urge to punch the cocky American (even though in the back of the mind he knew that was terribly hypocritical but, dammit, _he_ was supposed to be the most arrogant guy in the room). James nodded stonily in the other man’s direction. (Merlin, he was being childish. How did Lily always seem to make James act like a petulant first year?).

“And, of course, Ellie, Alice, and Marlene,” Benjy continued, giving the girls a winning smile. _He has disgustingly white teeth_ , James thought uncharitably, _he must be one of those smarmy ponces that uses vanity spells._ “Red here didn’t do you ladies justice.”

“You seem to know all of us, but we don’t know a thing about you,” Marlene replied brightly, with a sly glance at Sirius (they both loved playing those games where they make each other jealous). “Is that an American accent I detect? What is a handsome man like you doing all the way over here?” At least James wasn’t the only one scowling at the blonde man anymore, he thought. Sirius had joined in on the fun.

“Actually, I’ve been traveling the world,” Benjy explained arrogantly, pulling up a chair and dragging Lily onto his lap, “Special mission from Dumbledore. Just got back from Africa¾”

“Oi, Lils!” Mary called from the wall that James now knew led to the hidden staircase up to the apartment, cutting the young American off, “I’m off to bed, you’re up!”

“Bugger it all,” Lily muttered, before plastering a smile on her face, “Benjy, why don’t you come join me at the bar?” 

“Naw, Red, I think I’m gonna get to know your friends a little bit first,” Benjy replied with a wink, “I think you can take your eye off me for a minute, you know I’ll always find my way back to you.” James was so busy scowling at his hands that he missed the massive eyeroll that Lily gave the man.

She stood up and pointed her finger at him commandingly, “ _Behave yourself_ , Benjy Fenwick.”

The second she was behind the bar, Benjy turned back to them with a conspiratorial grin, “I need you to tell me every embarrassing story you know about Lily so I can hold them over her head until the end of time.”

While the girls giggled, the four boys shared a look. “See here,” James began testily, “I’ve-I mean we, have known Lily a long time. We can’t just let some smarmy git come up in here¾” 

“What he means to say,” Remus jumped in, “Is that we try to look out for Lily’s best interests.” The Marauders all adopted their most intimidating looks as they stared down Benjy, while the girls looked on with anticipation at the events unfolding. This was not the first time they had witnessed the lads trying to warn off a boy, and they always found it quite amusing, even if they did disapprove.

Benjy just stared at them for a beat, before breaking down in hysterical laughter. “What in the hell are you doing? Trying to scare me off? Am I supposed to ask your permission to shag Lily?” This raised the boys’ hackles, and James and Sirius jumped up halfway out of their seats. “Has this ever actually worked for you?”

“It worked for seven years,” James grunted in reply.

“Take a seat boys,” Benjy said with a chuckle, “I swear I’m not a threat. We tried to date but it would never have worked out. I view her as a pesky, useless little sister who is always getting herself into trouble. Nothing more.” The four boys visibly relaxed, while the girls tittered, amused at how well this stranger had played the Marauders. The American fixed the boys with a serious stare for a moment, “You guys are real shitheads, though. Lily thought that the boys at Hogwarts just didn’t like her. You gave her a serious insecurity problem. She is mostly useless when it comes to guys.” 

The Marauders all had the good sense to look ashamed (although James still didn’t feel all that bad).

“Anyways, I gotta go, I still need to report to Dumbledore about that Africa trip. I’m sure I’ll see you around.” Benjy got up to go, but was stopped by Alice, who asked, shocked, “You haven’t been to Dumbledore yet? Aren’t you supposed to report after a mission right away?”

“Well yeah,” Benjy said with a sincere (although slightly sheepish) smile, “But it’s Lily.”

All seven of those at the table nodded solemnly; they understood exactly what he meant.

Benjy started to walk away, but turned back at the last second with a wicked grin on his face. “You know lads, before I saw her as a sister,” he said, nodding at Lily, who was filling up a butterbeer behind the bar, “I _did_ get to see her naked.” 

With that, he strode off to the bar to give Lily a peck on the cheer, before walking out of the pub to apparate away. 

The four boys were left in open-mouthed shock, varying degrees of disgust and envy on their faces, while they girls were clutching at their sides in hysterical giggles.

“Your faces!” Marlene gasped, leaning on Sirius as she attempted to catch her breath.

“That absolute wanker!” James spat, his hands clenched in fists.

“I’m not going to lie, that was actually pretty hilarious,” Sirius conceded, earning a punch to the arm from his best friend. “Ouch!” he cried in protest, “Don’t be an arse just because you’re jealous!”

James thought about denying it, but didn’t bother, choosing to drain his glass of firewhiskey instead.

“Speaking of Dumbledore though,” Marlene said, tactfully changing subjects, “It’s about time for us to head out, Sirius. Need to check in at Hogwarts first.” Marlene and Sirius had an Order mission that night; they had been tipped off about a potential Death Eater meeting, and thought it would be a good chance to spy.

Sirius nodded and stood up, offering Marlene his arm, “Off we go then. ‘Night to the lot of you. Have fun stewing in your misery, Prongs.” He led his girlfriend out of the pub, where they apparated away.

The five Gryffindors remained at the pub for a little bit longer, but Marly and Sirius tended to be the life of the party, and without them things seemed to deflate a bit. James dreaded returning home to his loft, where all that awaited him was a stack of paperwork. He was mere weeks away from graduating from the Auror Academy, and had to study up for his final written exam. Hopefully, the last exam of of his life. James knew, however, that if he had another drink he would not retain anything he studied, so he stood with the rest of the group to leave. They all waved to Lily as they left, and she returned it distractedly (to James’s chagrin, she was surrounded by a group of young men who she was serving at the bar). He sighed in defeat, before apparating away once again. 

* * *

Several hours later, Lily sat in a broom closet where they stored some of their overflow medical supplies, absently taking inventory as she switched back and forth between brainstorming about ways to incorporate her new knowledge of wandless magic into her magical experiments, and the incident at the bar. It was obvious that there had been some sort of confrontation between Benjy and the Marauders. Lily sighed internally at the memory. She had a habit of giving away different pieces of herself to different kinds of people; her Gryffindor friends and those she had met out of school, like Benjy, tended to see _very_ different sides of her. It made it easier for her to compartmentalize her own brain, her own stresses and problems. She knew she had too much going on in her mind for one person to handle, so she let each person see just a tiny part of herself. It helped her to keep her friends for longer (regretfully she had not figured this out until after she had already lost Petunia and Severus). When the pieces of her world collided…She pinched her nose, fighting a headache. _Well, we all saw how well_ that _went._

With an earsplitting _BANG!_ the door to the medical supply closet was thrown open, effectively jarring Lily from her reverie. Dorcas stood in the doorway, gasping for breath; she must have sprinted up the stairs from where she was on guard duty in the bar. “Lily, come quick,” she panted, a look of despair on her face, “It’s Sirius.”

Lily wasted no time in rushing after her friend, following her through a labyrinth of hallways until they burst through one of the rooms in the Hospital Wing. The sight that awaited her stopped her in her tracks. Sirius was laid out on the bed, blood pooling on the sheets and dripping onto the concrete floors. Gashes were opened up all over his body, slashing across his handsome face and apart his usually meticulously well-kept clothing. Marlene was by his side, covered in his blood and her own tears as she tried in vain, over and over again, to heal the cuts. Every time she closed one, it immediately tore back open.

The redhead was at the broken boy’s side in a moment. He was mercifully unconscious, most likely due to blood loss, so he did not feel any pain. “It was Regulus’s initiation,” Marlene sputtered through her tears, “And he just couldn’t help himself. He ran into the damn circle and started shouting at him, and I followed him, we were able to hold our own for a bit but there were too many of them, and then Sirius got hit by that curse. I’ve never seen it before, and he was losing so much blood.” At this, the weeping brunette looked down at her blood-soaked hands in horror. “I was able to get us out of her, apparate away, but none of my healing spells are working. Lily, you have to fix him.” The pleading look in her eyes nearly broke Lily’s heart.

Bile was building in the back of her throat and her stomach was roiling, but Lily managed to keep it down despite the horror she was witnessing. The second she had walked in, she recognized the spell. She had been there when Severus had come up with it: _Sectumpsempra._ At the time, Sev had told her it an incision spell, to be used for medical surgeries. But later Lily had seen the inscription he had written under it in his _Advanced Potion-Making_ textbook: _For Enemies_. She had forgiven him for lying when he promised that he never planned to use it, had just been experimenting a bit. As an apology, he had come up with a countercurse for her, just in case.

Now, Lily took Sirius’s hand, and waved her wand over the gashes as she softly sang,

 

_Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes,_

_Flow gently, I’ll sing thee a song in thy praise;_

_My Mary’s asleep by thy murmuring stream,_

_Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream._

_Thou stock-dove, whose echo resounds thro’ the glen_

_Ye wild whistling blackbirds in yon thorny den,_

_Thou green-crested lapwing, thy screaming forbear,_

_I charge you disturb not my slumbering fair._

 

As she carried the final melody, the last of the cuts marking Sirius’s skin closed. Large red welts were still raised all over his body, and Lily knew it would be months until they were gone altogether, and some would never totally heal. It all depended on the intentions behind the spell, and Snape had nothing but the purest of hate for his nemesis. With a flick of her wand, she vanished the blood that had spilled all over the room. Pink stains still stood out against the white sheets, and Lily knew she would have to throw them out. She turned to Dorcas, instructing, “Put dittany on those welts every hour, and we’ll give him Blood-Replenishing Potion three times a day. We have a couple of bottles in storage, but I’ll start brewing some more now.”

Lily left the room then, barely making it to her bathroom before she was sick all over the toilet.

* * *

“Lily?” James called tentatively and he knocked on the door that Dorcas had given him directions to. Or, at least, he thought it was the right room. The damn building was so confusing, he had no idea how the three girls found anything in it. Not hearing a response, the messy-haired wizard teased the door open, repeating, “Lily? Dorcas wanted me to let you know that we only found one bottle of Blood-Replenishing Potion, and wanted to know how long it will take until the next batch is ready.” 

James heard a strange noise, and decided to enter the room. “Lily!” he shouted again, but this time it came out sharper, edged with fear. The witch was curled in a ball on the floor of her bathroom, shaking and still making that strange noise. James realized it was from repressed sobs. There was also a pungent smell in the air, and he realized that she must have been sick in the toilet.

He was not totally sure what to do. He was shit at comforting people, and even worse when he didn’t understand the reason they were upset. I mean, the whole Sirius thing had definitely been a scare, he had cried a few tears himself until Sirius had told him to stop being such a twat, but it wasn’t like he died. Anyways, he was pretty sure that she had never really liked his best friend all that much.

But this was Lily, and James couldn’t watch her cry and do nothing. He sat on the cold floor next to her, and pulled her into his lap, wrapping his arms around her. She continued to shake, and he pulled her even closer, rocking back and forth as she soaked his shirt with her tears. “Shhhhh,” he whispered into her hair as he stroked it.

“I hate him,” she began sobbing into his shoulder, over and over again, “I hate him, I hate him, I hate him.”

“Sirius?” James asked, confused.

“Snape,” Lily responded, packing so much pain into the word that it nearly bowled him over. “The curse that hit Sirius, he invented it. And that fucking bastard,” she shuddered as another sob racked her body, “That bastard made the lullaby my mother used to sing to me the countercurse.”

James understood, now, why Lily had been sick. He wanted to find Snape and rip him limb from limb. It took all of James’s self control to stop himself from punching the wall. Instead, he murmured into her hair, “You fixed Sirius, love, that’s all that matters.”

“I hate him,” she muttered again, but quieted after that. James continued to rock her back and forth, and every few minutes a shudder would pass through her or she would choke out a sob, but eventually her breathing evened out and it seemed as if she had fallen asleep. He stood up, the redhead still in his arms, and walked her to her bed. She was disturbingly light; she definitely wasn’t eating enough. James gently laid her in her bed, sitting on the edge beside her, and continued to stroke her soft, crimson locks. 

He tried not to think about the fact that Lily would never let him get this close to her in any other situation. 

Instead, he surveyed her room, trying to glean as much information about her from it as possible. There was not much to see. The walls were brick, painted a stark white that remind James of St. Mungo’s, and had no decorations on them. The floors were concrete, and Lily hadn’t even laid down a rug to soften things up. She had a couple of plants, some sort of weird cactus-looking things, that sat in the single small window, but that seemed to be the only personal touch she had added to the whole room. Well, that and the books strewn all over the place. He picked two of them up: _Wuthering Heights_ and _Merpeople: A Comprehensive Guide to Their Language and Customs_. He chuckled softly _. A bit of light reading, indeed_. 

James wondered why Lily had chosen to keep her room so bleak. He knew she had been living there for two years, plenty of time to get moved in. Didn’t she want to make herself at home? When James’s parents had passed away from dragon pox (they had been fighting it off and on for several years so it wasn’t a terrible shock for him) and he had moved into his flat in London with the lads, he had immediately covered the walls with Gryffindor banners and posters of his favorite Quidditch players. Merlin, she didn’t even have a real blanket, just a ratty old thing that looked like it was ready to fall apart.

He knew he should get back to Sirius, but James was afraid to leave Lily considering the state she was in. Instead, he laid down on the bed next to the slumbering witch, propping himself up one arm, and picked up the Muggle book. He began reading, intermittently playing with the crimson locks that spilled onto the pages. If he tried real hard, James could convince himself that this was just like any other day, that the war was not happening, friends betraying them or almost dying, that they were just two people taking enjoying a kip on a Tuesday afternoon.

James had always been a shit liar. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends! Kazoos and confetti all around for those who have read, reviewed, and given kudos! I get all squeal-y whenever I get a notification, you guys make my day! (And to give you an idea of how much I need my day to be made, one of my friends saw me today and said, "Shit, you look as tired as I feel." So yeah.) I mapped out the story finally and it looks like there should be about twenty-five chapters total! Finally, I recently started listening to the Beatles again, and I swear I could write this entire story using just their song lyrics. SO relevant. Anyways, enjoy the chapter! Let me know what you think!
> 
> Edit: Looks like it will be more like 50 chapters so look forward to that :)

4.

 

Lily woke up in a cold sweat, out of breath and with a sore throat. She must have been screaming most of the night. She looked at her watch. Or morning. At this point, time was more of a social convention than a real guiding force in the witch’s life.

She had become a master of the Silencing Charm one week into her seventh year at Hogwarts. She would wake up screaming nearly every night, startling her roommates awake. They tried to comfort her, but their pitying looks only made her insides squirm uncomfortably. Lily loved them, but she couldn’t handle it, could barely even speak to them for the first few months back at school.

It was all her fault. Lily had known this even before Petunia had spat the accusation in her face at the funeral. The pureblood community had been outraged when Lily Evans, insignificant uppity mudblood, had beaten out Euphemia Rowle, Slytherin prefect and daughter of one of the Minister’s most prominent advisors, for Head Girl. Following the outbreak of the war, placing a Muggleborn in such a historically significant position in wizarding society was a blatant political statement. Lily knew that must have been the guiding force behind Dumbledore’s decision; she was barely keeping her own head above water in her studies, she was hardly equipped to lead the entire student body. She didn’t deserve it, and all of pureblood society knew it.

Lily was in London when they came, interviewing for an apprenticeship with a prominent potion master for after she graduated from Hogwarts. Petunia was gone as well, visiting her boyfriend Vernon’s parents in Surrey for the week. Her mother and father were all alone in their little house in Cokeworth.

They were no match for five Death Eaters.

Lily supposed that they had more likely come to intimidate her into declining the position of Head Girl than murder her family. But when she wasn’t home, and her brave, stubborn, stupid parents refused to give up her location, the wizards had grown angry. Lily was thankful that they went quickly. Two _Avada Kedavra_ ’s, and it was all over. Small mercies.

And Lily had dreamt about it every night since.

She began to avoid mirrors, after the funeral. Her emerald eyes reminded her too much of the green lights she saw flashing in her mind every night she went to sleep. Come to think of it, Lily had tried to avoid sleep as well, where nightmares always lurked. She had always had a hard time sleeping, but her insomnia reached a frightening new level those first few months.

Lily would have refused to take the position of Head Girl, but she had become numb and didn’t have the fight in her anymore. Dumbledore put her up at the Leaky Cauldron (or she assumed it was him, she wasn’t really paying attention to details at that point in time) for the remainder of the summer. September 1st came, and Lily went to Hogwarts and assumed her duties. Not a single one of her professors could complain that she did not meet expectations, but everyone that encountered her walked away feeling like there was something missing. She was like one of the enchanted paintings that lined the corridors: showing only a surface level presentation of her true self.

The redhead would have probably continued down this path of self-destruction if it weren’t for her friends. Looking back now, Lily laughed at how her roommates had handled the situation: truly, only a Gryffindor would approach a mourning girl in this way.

One night, while Lily was absentmindedly walking down the corridors on the way to dinner in the Great Hall, she had been ambushed and pulled into an empty classroom. Marlene, Ellie, Alice, and Dorcas (who had moved into Gryffindor Tower at that point) surrounded her. They took her wand, and locked the door.

The four girls took turns pushing her, needling her, trying to force her to open up. Marlene shouted obscenities at her; Alice gave her the facts of her parents death over and over gain; Dorcas told her it was her fault; and Ellie sang her all of Mrs. Evans’s favorite lullabies.

Lily complete lost it, which was exactly what the girls had been aiming for. She had not cried a single tear since she had come home to find her parents dead four months ago. She had built a wall the size of The Great Wall of China between herself and everyone else. Suddenly it came crumbling down.

She did not know how long she cried, the four girls huddled around her. Her head was in Ellie’s lap, and Marlene stroked her hair while Dorcas and Alice each held a hand. All she knew was, after the last tear had fallen, she felt like the ball of anxiety that had been growing tighter in her chest each day was suddenly released. She could breathe for the first time in months.

Once Lily had pulled herself together a bit, the girls brought her up to the dorm where they had prepared Lily’s favorite meal, stovies, a full spread of Honeyduke’s finest, and a bottle of firewhiskey. It was all gone by the end of the night, which they had spent catching Lily up on all that had happened in the world since she had tapped out. The five girls skipped classes the next day, instead lounging around their dorm in their pajamas, forgetting the outside world for a day as they laughed at silly Witch Weekly articles and practiced gag spells from a prank book Marlene had picked up from Zonko’s.

Lily had made her friends swear not to talk about her ordeal to anyone else, and she still had night terrors several times a week. But things got better. Still, she knew that there were pieces of her that had broken when her parents died, that she would never be able to properly put back together.

And events like last night only chipped away more. 

Honestly, Lily was surprised that she had been able to sleep as long as she did; after a proper panic attack, the adrenaline from it usually kept her awake all night. She had yet to find a relaxation technique that brought her down, even though she had gone through numerous psychology textbooks, both magical and Muggle. She had finished taking care of Sirius at around five in the morning, and it was nearly eleven: that meant she had gotten nearly six hours of sleep. A veritable miracle, in her books. 

 _Shit_ , the redhead cursed in her head with sudden realization, as guilt coursed through her. She had slept through part of her hospital shift. She would have to bake something really nice for them (even though Lily was a shit baker) to beg Mary and Dorcas’s forgiveness. 

As Lily sat up, she realized she was in bed under her mother’s blanket, although she had no memory of how she had gotten there. Last she remembered, she was being sick in the toilet. Sometimes, when her panic attacks got really bad, she would lose hours out of her day.

There was a knock at the door, and Lily hid her head under her pillow. _Maybe if I don’t answer they’ll go away_ , she thought hopefully. She knew she needed to get back to work, but she still really wasn’t quite ready for social interaction. She was banking on the fact that Sirius would probably still be unconscious by the time she got back to work.

The door opened, though, and the flash of blonde hair that snuck around the door quashed Lily’s dream of solitude. Benjy had a very limited understanding of boundaries. Predictably, he shoved open the door to enter the room, carrying in a tray with an assortment of food and beverages on it. 

“How’s it going, Red?” he said with a soft smile, kind but without its usual playfulness. He must have heard that something went wrong last night. “I come bearing gifts.” He set down the tray on her mattress, and she was able to get a good look at her options. The food was a simple stack of pancakes, but the array of beverages made her chuckle. Benjy’s smile grew at that, saying, “Tea, coffee, and firewhiskey. Depends on what kind of a night you had, wanted to be prepared for whatever I was walking into.” 

Lily felt a surge in her heart. This was what she loved about Benjy: he had a solution for everything. Ever since the first day they had met, her loving friend had played damage control for her, teaching her how to manage the mess that was her life. Sometimes it was silly things that he dealt with, like the day she had her first hangover and he taught her the perfect combination of magical and Muggle medicines to get ride of it completely. Sometimes he dealt with days like the anniversary of her parents’ death, when he kidnapped her and took her to her parents’ graves, when she insisted she wasn’t ready to face them (Benjy was right, of course). He somehow knew exactly how much to push her, and when to back off and let her sort it out herself.

One time she had asked him what he got out of their friendship (another great thing about him: she could always be completely honest). He seemed to spend all of his time fixing her, and she didn’t really see what she gave him in return. He had simply replied, “You make me laugh.” That was all he needed. 

This was why she felt a strange sense of contentment when he let out a great boom of laughter at her choice of firewhiskey, downing the shot with a grimace and a cough. “That kind of a night, eh?” he chuckled, “Need to talk about it?” 

She grimaced again, but this time it wasn’t the firewhiskey, “It was a Sev thing.”

“Ah,” he replied in understanding. He had gotten her history with Severus out of her when she had gotten trashed one night, after his name had officially been added to the known Death Eaters list that the Order kept, “Care to elaborate?”

Lily looked down at her hands, her shoulders hunching under the weight of the memory of the night. “I don’t think I need to,” she murmured, realizing as she said the words that it was true. She could not pinpoint why, but for some reason she didn’t feel the usual strain in her chest that came when she bottled things up, or repressed her memories. 

Benjy gave her a dubious look, but he was an expert at recognizing when she was bullshitting, and could that in this instance she was actually telling the trurth. He still looked curious but he simply nodded in reply, asking instead, “Where’re you at, then?” Her friend had realized pretty early on that so much went on in Lily’s head at any given moment it was difficult for her to sort out exactly what her thoughts on a matter were. He had tried to simplify things for her by just asking for one or two words answers about what emotional range she was on: once she identified _what_ she was feeling, they could eventually deal with the _why_. It also gave Benjy an idea of the best solution for Lily’s problem. So, when she replied that she was just angry at the moment, he adopted a wide grin. “Need to punch something?” 

Lily laughed, and it eased the ache she felt in her chest that inevitably bloomed after her night terrors. “Yeah, I reckon I do,” she replied.

The blonde wizard pulled her to her feet, adopting a boxer’s pose, “Up you go then. Give it your best shot.”

“I’m not going to punch _you_!” Lily cried, giggling as her ridiculous friend bounced up and down on his feet, boxing the air, “Can’t you just transfigure my mattress into a punching bag or something?”

“You have before, why not now?” he challenged, “And it’s more effective this way, trust me. A punching just doesn’t give you the same sense of satisfaction.”

“The last time I punched you I was incredibly drunk and you had just turned on the Bee Gees, it was out of my hands,” she protested. In the back of her mind, she knew that all of the jokes and build-up was meant to distract her from whatever was bothering her, but she was more than happy to just play along. Sometimes it just felt nice to be distracted for awhile.

“Well, I’m just going to have to make you Bee Gees level angry then,” he said with a wicked grin, before shouting at her, “You have small tits!”

Lily crossed her arms, unimpressed. She had been a teenage girl only a couple years ago. Did he really think she hadn’t heard that before? “You’re going to have to try harder than that, love.”

“You’re shit at Transfiguration, couldn’t turn a mouse into a tea cozy!”

Nothing.

“You’re a cliché of a misunderstood girl, when are you going to start writing depressing poetry and dye your hair black?”

Nothing.

“Speaking of red hair, you look like a goddamn carrot, no guy’s ever gonna want to fuck you with a bush like that.”

Lily rolled her eyes, “Is that really the best you’ve got?”

Benjy got an evil look in his eyes, “You’re secretly wet for James Potter, you sl-“

WHAP!

“Dammit, Red, you have a hell of a right hook,” the American said, cradling his nose as blood spurted through it, “I think you broke it.”

The witch in question was shaking out her right hand, “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I think I broke my hand.”

Benjy stopped his ministrations of his nose for a moment, standing straight to look her in the eye, “Are _you_ feeling better?”

“I am,” Lily laughed, feeling the same sense of weightlessness she always felt around Benjy, “You absolute dolt. I swear, I don’t think I will ever understand the way your brain works. You’re insane.” She grinned broadly before continuing, more tenderly, “But, thank you.”

“Umm…Evans?”

Lily and Benjy’s heads whipped around to the open door, where James Potter now stood. The witch flushed, remembering what her friend has said to finally get her to punch him. She closed her eyes, her face screwing up as if a headache was coming on, and took a deep breath, “How long have you been standing there, exactly?”

“Oh, um, just got here,” James said awkwardly. He looked between the two, noticing Benjy’s broken nose and Lily’s swelling knuckles, “Did something happen? Because, Evans, I can-“

“Oh no,” Lily laughed, both in relief and at the realization of how strange the scene must seem, “Benjy was just helping me get something out of my system. Here-,” she picked up her wand and waved it, instantly mending their broken bones, “Just like new. We’re fine, Potter. Now, what did you need?”

“Dorcas and Mary wanted me to check in on you. And, uh, we probably need some more blood replenishing potion brewed soon.”

“Oh, shit,” the witch cursed, slapping her hand against her forehead, “That’s what I was supposed to do. Tell them I am so sorry, I’ll get it taken care of right away.” She began gathering up a set of fresh clothing, and walked towards her bathroom. She turned to her friend, “Back to the grind, eh, Benj? Try and stop by again sometime this week, okay? I found some spells from those books I want to try out.” Her friend nodded and left the room at the same time that she closed her bathroom door.

Emerging five minutes later, having changed and used some refreshing spells (Merlin, she needed a shower), Lily was surprised to find James still casually leaning against the doorframe, toying with his thick, dark locks. He was wearing a pair of charcoal grey trousers, but he had forgotten to don his dress shirt because all he had on was a thin, white undershirt. (Auror training had been kind to him, not that she took any notice of the faint lines she could make out through the shirt). His eyes lit up when he saw her, and for a moment she was stunned, rooted to the spot as she took the sight of him in. _Damn Benjy_ , she thought murderously, _Putting all these thoughts in my head._

“Oh,” Lily said awkwardly when she had regained her ability to speak, “You, um, didn’t need to wait for me.”

The messy-haired wizard gave her a soft smile that made her skin feel strangely warm, “I know, I wanted to.”

“Ooookay,” she replied, drawing the word out since she was unable to come up with anything else to say at the moment. Feeling flustered, she grabbed her wand off her mattress, and brushed passed him out the door, walking brusquely towards the Hospital Wing.

He jogged after her. “I just wanted to check in on you after last night. You, um, seemed pretty upset. And here,” he fumbled in his pockets for a moment before drawing out a bar of chocolate, “Remus always says that chocolate is the answer to everything.”

Lily stopped abruptly in the hallway, causing James to run into her. She wheeled around, her face flushed in embarrassment, “It was _you_? _You_ took care of me last night.”

James stood facing her, confusion etched on his face while he nervously ran his hand through his hair, “Well, yeah. I mean, you were a total wreck and-”

“You had no right!” Lily cried, her face nearly as read as her crimson curls. She was nearly paralyzed in embarrassment. She _hated_ people seeing her cry, and for him to see her having a full-blown panic attack? And she didn’t know why, but having it be James, of all people, only made her humiliation worse. She was nearly hysterical at this point, shouting, “I’m not some charity case! Just mind your own damn business, Potter!” She swept down the hallway, trying to put as much distance between them in that apartment that suddenly felt _so bloody small_.

“Sure, next time you’re covered in your own vomit and crying your eyes out I’ll just leave you to it, yeah?” James shouted after her, obviously affronted by the turn the conversation had taken. 

“Good!” Lily shouted back over her shoulder, always having to get in the last word. She knew she was acting insane but she couldn’t help it. She turned a corner, trying to get away from him as quickly as possible so that she could begin building the delusion that none of this had ever happened.

 _Bloody James Potter_ , she thought furiously, _Always sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong._ She carefully pretended that she truly thought he deserved it.

* * *

“Potter! Where’s your head at? Keep this up and you’ll get yourself killed before you even leave the Academy!” Marlene shouted at James as she revived him for the fourth time from one of her Stun Spells. They had been dueling for the past hour, getting in some extra practice before their final practical exam the following week. It had been a week since his latest blowout with Lily, and he still couldn’t get his head on straight.

See, usually James knew exactly what he had done to piss off the fiery redhead. There is not much mystery to a balding potion, or fireworks going off in the dorms at three in the morning. The messy-haired wizard could not help it: he liked a show. Even if the show was his own public humiliation, which typically occurred directly after whatever stunt he pulled as Lily promptly put him in his place.

Which was why he couldn’t seem to get this fight out of his head: he had _no idea_ what he did wrong. He felt like he had behaved like a sodding knight in shining armor, chivalrous and respectful in the face of his lady’s utter despair. This was the shite that birds were falling over their feet to get, right? And James hadn’t even been faking it. No, he had truly wanted to comfort her, to do anything to make her stop crying, to make her feel better.

And she had acted like he was the same berk who had pantsed her in the Great Hall in third year.

 _It’s official_ , James thought despairingly, _I will never understand women._

James belatedly realized that Marlene had restarted the duel when he was once again Stunned. The lean brunette revived him and pulled him to his feet. “Okay, Potter,” she said, “We are obviously not getting anywhere. Now, I need you to tell me whatever’s got you dueling like Pettigrew before you fail out of the Academy.” She crossed her arms and stared him down (literally, in this case, as she was nearly two inches taller than him).

Both members of prominent pureblood families, James and Marlene had grown up together, exploring the forest that separated their houses (although most people would have called them mansions), building forts, and daring each other to eat bugs. They had suffered through suffocatingly boring luncheons at each other’s houses for years, and come up with elaborate, untraceable plans to cause trouble at the stuffy parties that their parents always threw. They had learned how to play Quidditch on the mini pitch in his backyard, where she had grown to be a bloody brilliant (and absolutely terrifying) Beater, and played on the Gryffindor team together for five years. Because of this history, James could tell just by looking at her that she was not backing down.

He sighed in defeat, “It’s Lily.”

Marlene snorted in an unladylike fashion, “Oh please, isn’t it always? What’s it this time, you get jealous of that American bloke and try to slip her a love potion again?”

James winced; he had tried that during an especially desperate time during his fifth year (the house elves had finally gotten around the wards the boys had placed around their dorm and cleaned it out thoroughly, trashing all of their PlayWizards. It had been a painful time for all of the Marauders. And Lily hadn’t even been impressed by his potion-making skills). “No, that’s just the thing. I didn’t _do_ anything. I have gone over it a million times, and I feel like I was actually a decent bloke for once!” He pulled at his hair in frustration.

“Interesting,” the brunette hummed, “Usually you are pretty self-aware of your idiocy.”

“I know!” James cried, “Honesty is my one redeeming quality!” 

“I don’t know, you’ve grown pretty fit over the past year,” Marlene mused, a teasing smile on her full lips.

He shuddered in disgust; seeing Marlene proudly smile as she chomped down on a cockroach to complete a dare at the age of nine was an image that had stuck with him, and he had firmly viewed her as a sister ever since. “Oi, Marly, you’re not helping!”

“Oh, right. Out with it then, I need the whole story to assess the damage.”

“Well, it was after Sirius had gotten hit by that nasty hex, right?” James began. He saw Marlene stiffen; her boyfriend was doing loads better, thanks to the careful ministrations of a certain redhead, but he knew that she would never truly get past the horror she had witnessed that day. “After she healed him, apparently she went missing for a bit. When I got there, Dorcas and Mary asked me to go find her, they needed more blood replenishing potion. So I get to her room, right, and she’s on the bathroom floor crying, like really sobbing, it was terrible, and I-”

“Please tell me you walked right out of then room and never spoke of it again,” Marlene interrupted, a look of horror on her face.

“Well no,” James replied, puzzled, “I wasn’t about to leave her there in that state, was I? I like to think I’m a somewhat decent bloke, and you don’t just leave a girl crying like that-”

“That wasn’t just any girl, though!” Marlene cried, waving her arms wildly in her distress, “I have known Lily for nine years now. Want to know how many times I have seen her cry? Once. I saw her break her wrist once, snapped right in half when I tried to teach her how to play Quidditch over the summer, and she didn’t shed a single tear. When it comes to Lily Evans, you do _not_ acknowledge weakness, unless it is dire, _life-threatening_ circumstances.”

“That’s barmy!” James shouted angrily, “For once in my life I feel like I did something right by her, and she just hates me even more because of it? That’s absolutely insane!” 

“That’s Lily,” Marlene replied with a shrug, “She carries the weight of the world on her shoulders, takes on everyone’s problems, and determinedly ignores her own. She’s always been that way.”

A realization dawned on him, “So the Snape thing…”

The brunette caught on quickly, nodding, “Sees it as a personal failure that he went Dark.”

“That explains so much,” James replied, sitting down on the ground as he began to process this new information, “So that was her big problem with the pranks? And the,” he winced at the memory, “You know, bullying?”

“Well, nearly everyone thought you were behaving like a right arse at that point, but yeah, Lily took it all as a personal attack.” Marlene sighed, “That’s why the war has been so hard on her, more than anyone else I know except maybe Dumbledore. She’s going to work herself to death, trying to brew the cure for war in that potions room of hers. It’s been worse since the death of her parents…” She trailed off thoughtfully before coming back to herself with a start, realizing what she had said and shooting James a panicked look, “Shit, I was _not_ supposed to say that. Pretend you didn’t hear that, okay? Lily will _kill_ me. It took the girls and I nearly four months to get it out of her, she does _not_ want it to get around.”

“Why in the world would she not tell anyone?” he demanded, absolutely shocked, “When did it happen?”

“Well, since you already know,” the brunette sighed, “It happened the summer before seventh year. Death Eaters. I guess they were not happy about having a Muggleborn as Head Girl of Hogwarts, and things got a bit out of hand. We think she blames herself.”

James felt his stomach roiling. The revelation added a new dimension of horror to all that Lily had confessed about Snape that night. _Sick, twisted son of a bitch_ , he though furiously, _I’ll kill the bastard._ And he couldn’t even begin to think about the fact that she blamed herself for it all. James had lost his own parents a year out of Hogwarts to dragon pox. They had been sick for awhile, and he had time to make his peace with it, but he had still been devastated. To think that it was all your fault… “Merlin,” he muttered, at a loss about what to do about it all.

Marlene sat down next to him, taking his hand in a comforting gesture, “Yeah, that just about sums it up.”

“So what do you do about it?” James asked. He felt the itching in his hands that began when he became restless. He just _had_ to do something, anything, to help Lily. Merlin, he would lasso the damn moon if he thought it would make her smile for even a second.

His friend smiled sadly back at him, “There’s nothing to do about it, except be there for her. In case you hadn’t noticed, she is not exactly open to any assistance.” He snorted in reply. _That’s the understatement of the century_ , he thought. Marlene clapped her other hand on top of his, “Nothing to do about it now, is there? Let’s get back to work. The best thing we can do is to make ourselves the best aurors we can so she doesn’t have to deal with another funeral.” James gave a wan smile at her dark humor, but followed her lead as she pulled him to her feet.

As they started up their next duel, James’s mind once again began to wander. Now that he felt some sort of resolution and closure regarding the whole Lily-explosion, his mind lingered on the earlier part of their interaction. 

He had arrived a bit earlier to Lily and Benjy’s ‘fight’ than he had originally let on. He was fascinated listening to the young American goad her into punching him (usually all James had to do was look at her funny to get the same reaction) and begrudgingly gave the bloke credit for the creativity of his insults. So, James was definitely right outside the door to hear the words that had plagued his sleep (and let’s be real, daydreams too) since: _You’re secretly wet for James Potter_. Merlin, he had almost soiled his trousers like some horny fifth year hearing those words spoken in the same room as her. Sure, that was what had finally pissed Lily off enough to punch her best friend in the face, but still. Maybe she was just in denial, and that’s why she had snapped so violently. One could only dream…

Marlene once again caught him off-guard, lost in his thoughts as he was. The last thing he heard before he blacked out was her shriek:

“DAMMIT POTTER!”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has been reading! I am really excited about this chapter, it has a couple of scenes that I've had in my head since the beginning. I was so excited that I couldn't split up the chapter, even though it's twice as long as some of my others. Warning: there is some drug use in here, if that is a trigger for you. I would love to hear what you all think of this chapter, so leave me a review! Enjoy!

5.

 

“What in the world are you doing?”

Lily nearly toppled off the counter in shock at the question. It was nearly two in the morning, hours after the pub had closed, so she was not expecting to come into contact with any humans for at least another two hours, when shift changed. She berated herself for being a terrible guard; she had been so deep in thought she hadn’t even noticed the dark figure that had crept in from the hidden apartment stairs.

“I said, what in the world are you doing?” Sirius Black repeated, looking her up and down.

To be fair, it was a perfectly valid question. Lily was, at the moment, seated on the counter in the kitchen part of the pub, her socked feet dangling into the sink. An old record player sat next to her (she still hadn’t figured out how to get a proper stereo system to work in a building that did not run on electricity). Every few minutes she would flick her wand, magically replacing the record with the next on the teetering pile.

The redhead found, to her surprise, that she wasn’t blushing at the strange encounter. Against her best judgment, Lily had grown used to Sirius’s constant presence over the last week and a half. Due to the _Sectumsempra_ curse, he had suffered severe blood loss, and his body was just wrecked from the exertion of recovering from it all. The hatred that had powered the curse was incredibly strong, as well, and some of Sirius’s wounds still opened up every once in awhile. Lily had told him it would be another week until she felt comfortable sending him back to the Auror Academy (he would be graduating late due to his absences, to his disappointment). Now that he was not on complete bed rest, though, he was going stir-crazy, and tended to follow her around like a puppy, begging for scraps of attention. At first it had been very confusing for her because he had always been an annoying prat around her, but for the most part he was bearable, even occasionally enjoyable, to talk to. Overall, it simultaneously drove her crazy (she did love her alone time) and put her at ease to have some company.

“I read in a book once,” Lily explained, still sitting in the sink, “ That you do your best thinking when you are someplace unexpected.”

Sirius nodded, as if this made all the sense in the world (nothing she had ever seemed to surprise him, which she appreciated), and proceeded to lay on his back in the middle of the pub. “So, Lilybean, what is it you are thinking so hard about?”

Lily shot him a glare at the use of her old schoolgirl nickname, responding evasively, “Stuff.”

“Is that it?” he replied sarcastically.

“And things. There are definitely some things.”

“Brilliant,” he said flatly. He pulled out cigarette package and drew one out, setting it alight with the tip of his wand. Lily was about to berate him for smoking in the bar when smoke rings in sunset reds and orange began to flow from his lips.

“I take it those aren’t Lucky Strikes?” she commented, curiously following him to his spot on the floor.

“What’s that?” the dark-haired wizard asked, letting out a stream of fuschia as he spoke.

“Muggle thing,” Lily muttered with a sigh. It was so hard to be around purebloods sometimes, they missed at least half of her references. “And what’s _that_?” 

“This,” Sirius replied, brandishing the stick as if it was a Crown Jewel, “Is Summerbee’s Finest. Each cig has a different effect. Some have different colored smoke, some make you feel like you are eating a full meal, that kind of thing. All of them,” he took another long drag, adopting a satisfied smirk, “make you _mellow_.”

The redhead snorted, “Sounds like the magical community has finally discovered marijuana.”

Sirius sat up on his elbows, looking at her with a sour expression, “Will you shut up? I am so tired of your bullshit muggleborn superiority complex. We purebloods are all inbreeds stuck in the seventeenth century, and you muggleborns are these geniuses who get to lead these amazing double lives. _We get it_.”

“Are you joking?” Lily cried, aghast, “There’s a whole fucking _war_ being fought because of how big of a superiority complex purebloods have. People are being _killed_ over it. You can handle a few sarcastic comments, you, you…,” Lily trailed off, trying to think of as insulting a name as possible. To her great shame, she ended up blurting out, “Turd sandwich!”

Sirius stared at her blankly. “Turd sandwich? Really?”

She pondered this for a bit before supplying, “Gormless piss pot. That better?”

He rolled his eyes, “I know you can do better than that. Gutter slag.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, “Knob jockey.” 

“Lint licker.”

“Ass cactus”

“Manky twat.”

“Pompous womp.

“Cum guzzling demon slut.”

“Dicknugget McGee.”

The two just stared at each other, before suddenly cracking up. Their laughter seemed to last forever; every time they seemed to get it under control, they would make eye contact and fall over laughing again.

“I’m going to have to remember those,” Lily finally said, wiping tears away from her eyes.

“For the next time James tries to put a move on you?” Sirius smirked as he laid back down on the grimy pub floor. 

Lily rolled her eyes, “We’re not in school anymore, he doesn’t have anyone to show off for or to humiliate me in front of so there’s no point. Bit of a relief, really, I don’t feel like I need to run away every time I see him. Would be a bit inconvenient at the Order meetings.”

Sirius’s eyebrows had been raised throughout Lily’s speech, but he simply lit a new ciggy, the previous one having burnt out during their fit of laughter. He took a drag, his eyes lighting up as he did so. “Mmm, this one’s good, Lils, you have to try it.”

At first the witch hesitated (anything that Sirius Black enjoyed had to be some sort of sin), but curiosity got the better of her. She took a puff, coughing loudly while Sirius heartlessly laughed at her. She was distracted before she could berate him for his teasing, though: his laughs were taking the shape of bright yellow bubbles, floating around her head.

“Wow,” she sighed, watching as the word stretched out from her lips in a string of pale blue, “So this one turns sound into color?” Sirius nodded in confirmation, a crooked smile on his face as he watched her words drift around them. “Oh, I know what we need!” Lily rushed back to the kitchen counter. At some point during their insult war the record player had stopped. She rifled through her stack of records, pulling out her favorite single. As soon as the needle hit the record, light pink melodies began floating on the air.

 

_Let me take you down, 'cause I'm going to Strawberry Fields._

_Nothing is real and nothing to get hung about._

_Strawberry Fields forever._

Lily laid down next to Sirius; in her current inhibition-less state, she let her head lean against his shoulder.

“What is this?” he asked, a boyish wonder in his voice that caught her completely off guard. For a second she heard James in his voice, and wondered if this is what the usually sly and sarcastic man would have sounded like if he had been raised in a happy home, had a happy childhood like James had. It made her unbearably sad for a moment, before she was (more easily than normal) distracted by the amazing realization that this was _the first time he had ever listened to the Beatles_.

“It’s the Beatles,” she giggled happily, “The best Muggle band in the world.” The two of them watched in wonder as the words of the magical song took shape around them. As the song faded, Lily flicked her wand to replace the record with another Beatles’ album, Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club.

The pair laid still, without talking, until Sirius suddenly turned his head to face her, child-like earnestness on his face again, “You know I don’t care that you’re Muggleborn right? I just get so jealous sometimes. You have _twice_ as much world to see!” He looked at her sadly, “You must have had such a _normal_ childhood. Didn’t have any politics to deal with, didn’t have to worry about an arranged marriage. My parents are cousins, did you know that? You came into the world with a clean slate, that’s a wonderful thing, yeah?”

Her heart breaking again a little at the innocence in his voice, Lily replied, “Oh Sirius, I get so jealous of _you_ sometimes! You have seen so much more magic in the world! I don’t even know what I don’t know that you know!” She paused, thoughts muddled by the flashing colors and smoke. “Did that make any sense?”

Sirius nodded, his face relaxed and open in a way she had never seen. He was usually so secretive, so guarded. Lily found herself touching his cheek as she examined this new expression. Suddenly he grabbed her in a big, warm hug, “Let’s never fight again, Lilybean, okay?” The redhead merely giggled into his chest.

The next cigarette wasn’t nearly as exciting, simply gave them a different nose every time they took a drag. It didn’t give them the same high, either, simply leaving them relaxed rather than giddy. Still, the two of them continued talking, having passed some sort of barrier where judgment of one another was no longer allowed.

“Can you hate someone and love someone at the same time?” Lily asked suddenly, their conversation having hit a lull.

“Yes,” Sirius replied automatically. She was surprised by this, and turned to give him a searching look. “You heard about that night?” he asked, “When I got cursed? It was Regulus’s initiation into the Death Eaters. My own brother.” He sighed sadly. “He was my best friend growing up. It was us against the world. Our parents, really our whole extended family, were insane. They began teaching us Dark Magic pretty much as soon as we could hold a wand, and had us practice on each other. Or they would practice on us. We were able to keep each other alive, and make each other want to be alive, too, which is just as important. And then I went to Hogwarts, and got sorted into Gryffindor. My parents hated me more than ever, and I just kind of shut down when I was at home. Even to Reg, who was turning into Mum and Dad’s perfect little heir without me to remind him that everything they said was complete bollocks. And we just drifted farther apart, until I was in the Order and he was a Death Eater and suddenly we are on opposites sides of the war.” Lily took his hand and buried herself into his side. “I just wonder sometimes, if I hadn’t shut him out, if I could have saved him, yeah?”

Lily knew from experience that nothing she could have told him would have made him feel any better. He didn’t really _want_ to feel better. And so she did the only thing she could think of: let him know that he wasn’t the only one who felt like a failure in the room. “I got my parents killed, you know.” She felt him shift to look down at her, but kept her face buried in his shoulder. Confessions like this felt better when they were anonymous; she now understood by Catholics kept that partition between themselves and the priests. “Death Eaters came looking for me after I was made Head Girl, and they murdered my parents when they couldn’t find me. If I wasn’t made a witch, hadn’t gone to Hogwarts, hadn’t been made Head Girl, they would still be alive. My sister, even though she is a raging bitch, wouldn’t be an orphan, would have had someone to walk her down the aisle at her wedding. It was me, it all comes back to me.”

She felt, rather than saw, him nod. “Who is it that you love and hate, then?”

“Oh, well my sister, obviously. Like I said, total raging bitch. Has always hated me for my magic, made my life a living hell. But she’s still my sister, the only family I have left. There’s someone else though,” she said, finally moving away from his side so that she could look at him, gauging his reaction, “You know, Severus. Snape.” She saw Sirius’s face morph into a brief look of disgust, before he recovered his impassive expression. _No judgment_ , it said. “He was my first encounter with the magical world, yeah? Used to live right down the street from me. Saw me doing accidental magic one day, told me I was a witch. Told me all about Hogwarts, too. Petunia hated me by then, thought I was a freak, and his dad beat him, so we would spend all of our summers together hiding out. He was my best friend, my _only_ friend, for years.” Lily sighed, “Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t kill him if I got the chance. I think I would. But it still hurts. Every day, it hurts.”

Sirius pulled her into his side again, and she knew he was half expecting her to cry. But she didn’t. She had cried over Sev one too many times, and didn’t have anything left in her.

She was completely caught off guard, though, when he said, “I think he’s shit, Lils, but it’s not my place to tell you how to feel. So move on, or don’t. Just, if you do move on, let me know how you did it, yeah?”

Lily felt way more comforted than the thousands of times her friends had told her none of it was her fault, that it was bad luck, that she didn’t deserve it. Silence and acceptance, these were the things that finally put her conscience at ease. “Right back atcha, Sirius,” she snorted.

They continued to talk until it was time for the shift change, and Sirius followed her up to his room in the Hospital Wing of the apartment. She changed his bandages, healing the small cuts that had reopened with whispered and hurried words, and applied dittany to the receding scars.

“Couple more days, Sirius, and you’re free,” Lily told him, “I think I’m actually going to miss you.” She shot him a sharp look, “But tell anyone I said that and I’ll hex you until you’re forced to stay another month.”

“Aw, Lilybean, I knew I was growing on you,” he smirked at her as he drew his shirt back over his head, “Or maybe you’re just going to miss rubbing your hands all over my irresistible body.”

The redhead stood in front of him, stroking her chin as if deep in thought, “You know, I have actually seen better.”

Sirius snorted in disbelief, “That’s absolutely hilarious, Evans. Pray tell, who have you seen who has a better body than me?”

It was Lily’s turn to smirk, “Avery Hawksworth.” The smirk grew as the wizard’s chin nearly dropped to the ground. Hawksworth was a world-renowned Chaser, hero of Puddlemere United and shoo-in for captain of the English National team after he gained a couple more years of experience. He was a Quidditch god.

“You’re shitting me.” 

“I shit you not,” she laughed, “He was staying with a friend here for a holiday during the off-season, came into the bar one night. What can I say, we hit it off.” She dramatically flipped her hair over her shoulder, enjoying the awestruck stare her friend (and they were friends now, she thought) was giving her.

Sirius let out a low whistle, “I concede. Merlin, James is gonna piss his pants when he hears that, though I’m not sure which one of you he will be more jealous of.”

Lily laughed again, although she blushed a bit this time at the mention of James. Things had still been unbearably awkward between them since their last big blowup. He seemed to always be around now, visiting Sirius or at the pub for a drink with the rest of the lads or with his Academy friends. He kept trying to apologize, leading her to come up with more and more elaborate excuses to get away from him because she knew _she_ should be apologizing but dammit, he was _James Potter_ , king of troublemaking and disaster, and anyways she had very strong feelings about how moronic apologies were. It was all getting a bit ridiculous.

The dark-haired wizard misread her blush, teasing, “Developed a taste for Chasers, then?”

“Technically James isn’t a Chaser anymore,” Lily blurted, before realizing how that might sound, and blushed even more. “Oh, shut up and get in bed, you wanker. I actually have things to do tonight.”

“Read me a bedtime story, Lilybean?” Sirius asked in a whiny voice as he climbed into bed, “I know one about this ginger girl who was in deep, deep denial…”

Lily wrenched the pillow out from under his head and started beating him with it until he plead for mercy.

* * *

 Five days later, James was sitting in a desk a few seats behind Lily, zoning out as Elphias Doge gave the latest report on Death Eater activity in Wales. He knew this was actually important information and he should be paying attention, but something about Hogwarts classrooms made his attention span resemble that of a goldfish.

Nearly the whole Order had assembled in the Transfiguration classroom for the latest meeting, held during supper when all students were in the Great Hall and wouldn’t notice the strange collection of visitors that had arrived on the grounds. With so many of the professors in the Order, it had only made sense to hold the latest meeting at Hogwarts. They needed as many people at the meeting as possible.

Death Eater activity had become more widespread across Great Britain over the past month. For the past several years the violence had centered around London but, like a disease, it had spread across borders, over rivers, through highlands. It was becoming an epidemic, and more and more difficult to hide from the Muggles. Not to mention keeping the wizarding population safe.

However, despite how compelling this information was, James had succumbed to his schoolboy hobby of staring at the back of Lily Evans’s head in sad, pathetic longing. He was royally fucked. He knew it, Sirius knew it, hell, even Marlene knew it. He had committed the unforgivable offense of seeing her in a moment of weakness, and he had no idea how to bounce back from that. It’s not like he could _un-see_ it. His attempts to apologize to her only seemed to piss her off more. And anyways, he wasn’t really sure if he wanted to apologize in the first place. She had been a bit of a bitch to him, even though he’d just been trying to be a decent person. He knew he hadn’t deserved that. Lily had torn his pride to pieces repeatedly throughout their relationship (if you could call it that), but damn him if he wasn’t going to hold on tight to that last shred of dignity.

What pissed him off most was, even as he tortured himself over their last encounter, she was just sitting there looking so fucking beautiful in a forest green sweater that made her eyes even more stunning and jeans that made her ass look amazing, and acting like she was perfectly fine, like nothing had ever happened. Well not fine, she looked like she could punch a wall listening to these reports. But still, he knew she hadn’t lost any sleep over their fight, and that killed him a little inside. Maybe he would join her in punching a wall.

James was so caught up in thoughts of the enigmatic redhead that he had missed his cue, and Remus had to elbow him in the ribs to get his attention. He stood up so quickly that his desk almost toppled over (thank Merlin he still had those Quidditch reflexes). “Um, yes, thank you Elphias, I guess I’m up next. So, as you all know, the lads and I have been keeping tabs on the Scottish Highlands, particularly around Inverness, where the new Muggleborn and halfblood wizarding community is. There has been a sharp increase in hate crimes in the area, although no deaths so far. Not that here haven’t been several attempts; I think they’ve been underestimating the Muggleborns, not sending enough Death Eaters, but even as thick as they are, they’ll hit the learning curve eventually. I’ve attempted to talk the community into dispersing a bit, so that they aren’t as big of a target, but so far they’ve refused.” James tried to catch Lily’s eyes as he continued, but she was dutifully avoiding them. “I think the next best option is to give all of the wizards in the area a short course on wards, make sure none of their homes can be targeted.” 

“Wards can be breached, though, look at what happened to the Bones family!” Caradoc Dearborn interjected, “There’s got to be more we can do!”

“Well, it’s the best we can do for now,” James said, a bit desperately, “Maybe we could teach self-defense? Start a curfew or a buddy system?” It was moments like these that he got a bit panicky. He was barely an adult, he still couldn’t cook for shit and Remus had to handle all of the bills for their flat because he was bollocks with money, and yet he was supposed to somehow come up with a solution on how to protect dozens of people from a murderous lunatic? 

“I think I can help,” a quiet voice said. Once again James felt a strong urge to punch the wall. Of course it was Lily. Miss I-Have-My-Shit-Together-And-Look-Perfect-Oh-And-I-Can-Fucking-Save-The-World Evans. And, even though she was speaking directly to him, she still somehow managed to avoid eye contact. 

James realized it had been nearly a minute and he still hadn’t addressed her interjection. He mentally kicked himself before quickly saying, “Floor is yours then, Evans,” and rushing to take a seat, nearly knocking over another desk in the process. _Smooth_ , he though, wincing internally, _Real fucking smooth_.

Lily made her way to the front of the room (easily, as she too had reverted to her schooldays habits and had chosen a seat at the front of the classroom) and faced them all. She looked confident, obviously certain of her abilities, but was also wringing her hands unconsciously. _She never did like crowds_ , James thought absently.

“So,” she began calmly, “The Mucky Duck, which is the pub that leads to the Safe House in Inverness, is pretty well known. I wanted to keep it open to everyone, even as the war has gotten worse, so the muggleborns and halfbloods don’t lose their sense of community. Helps keep the spirits raised and all that. So, along with all of the typical safety spells like making it Unplottable, I placed a special ward on it, so that people I don’t necessarily know can get in without leaving us open to threats from Death Eaters. I’ve been doing a lot of studying on magical theory, particularly on the power of intent. I was able to weave a spell that senses the intent of each person that enters the bar. If anyone enters who is planning to harm someone, no matter who it is or how they want to hurt them, the ward cloaks them. Makes them move in slow motion, like they are trying to walk through a room filled with Jell-O. This allows me to apprehend them before any damage is done. And it can be activated at any moment; even if someone were to trick it and get in with the original intent of just ordering a drink, the second they intend harm they will get trapped. Has come in handy with more than a few bar fights and bad break-ups.” The room chuckled, and she rewarded them with a proud smile that made James’s heart skip a beat.

“Why don’t you just make the ward freeze them, instead of dowsing them with pudding?” Dedalus Diggle asked skeptically. 

Lily blushed red at having her methods questioned, both from embarrassment and more than a spot of anger, “Well, like I said, I created this spell myself. When I was weaving, I couldn’t get the freezing part to work with all its other components without losing some of its power. It still gets the job done, though.”

“And why do you think _your_ spell will work better than the dozens of other wards we know of?” Emmeline Vance asked, a bit snidely. She had been a Ravenclaw in their year, and had always competed with Lily for top marks. It seemed that school rivalries never truly died.

“Well, _Vance_ , that’s exactly the point: we know of them. When we know all of a spell’s weak points, it is easier to dismantle them. Since no one will have ever seen my spell, it would take ages for them to discover its weak points, let alone _begin_ to dismantle it. And, hopefully by then, we will have captured them in the pudding-Jell-O-whatever you want to call it.”

“Quicksand?” Peter suggested helpfully.

“Perfect,” the redhead smiled, “Quicksand. That’s it exactly, Peter.” The mousy boy beamed back at her.

“I think that is a wonderful idea, Miss Evans, ingenious, really,” Professor Dumbledore said, moving up to the front of the room to stand next to her. Lily was dwarfed by the tall wizard, but she still seemed to stand a foot taller as she blushed light pink with pride. James resisted the impulse to roll his eyes at her. _Once a teacher’s pet, always a teacher’s pet_.

It _was_ genius, though. Merlin, she was perfect.

Dumbledore clapped his hands, calling the collection of witches and wizards to attention. “I think that was the last of our reports for the evening. Thank you all for taking out the time to meet. I would like all of our regional advisors to meet with Miss Evans and learn the incantation for her ward, and then begin to teach it to all of the wizards and witches in your communities as soon as possible. After that, you are free to go. And remember,” the ancient wizard said, his eyes twinkling as he gave Alastor Moody as sideways glance, “Constant vigilance!”

The room began to clear out, some witches and wizards forming small groups to talk (for many of them this was their only social event of the month), and a long line forming by Lily as she began to teach the incantation. He stood at the very back of the line with Remus and Peter, not really paying attention to their chatter about the latest drama at their workplaces (Remus worked in a Muggle bookshop and Peter was in an entry-level job in the Portkey Office in the Ministry). Instead, he watched the sweeping motions of Lily’s arms as she performed her spell, the spell she had created _all on her own_ , and guiding each witch and wizard as they copied her performance. She smiled encouragingly, adjusted wand grips, and corrected pronunciations.

Lily laughed and chatted with Peter and Remus as she taught them the spell, while he moodily stood by, watching. The pair ran off to chat with the Prewett twins after they had both mastered the ward, leaving James alone with the petite witch.

“Domicillium umbra inimucus spissus,” she said quickly as soon as they were alone, “That’s the incantation.” 

“Bit of a mouthful, isn’t it?” James remarked as he tried to keep up with the complicated Latin words. This would be an easy spell to muck up.

“It’s a complicated spell, Potter, bit difficult to cram all of what I created into a single word,” she snapped, “Sorry for not making my completely original spell more convenient for you.” Lily always did have a quick temper, and her defenses were quick to rise whenever anyone questioned her, particularly her ability to do magic. James had never really understood it; very few people would dispute that she was the brightest witch of her year, if not the past decade. And those who did dispute that were typically prejudiced idiots.

“I was just saying,” James muttered grumpily under his breath. She really did not make things easy for him. “What was it again?”

Lily repeated the incantation a few more times, and helped him to practice the complicated wandwork as well. As soon as James had mastered it (and before he had gotten the chance to try and talk to her about their fight), Dumbledore interrupted them to ask for a word. They left the room together, probably to go to his office. James sighed in frustration, before pasting on a smile as he joined his friends, trying to get at least a few laughs out of the night.

* * *

 “Sorry I didn’t come in last night, Padfoot, I had a bunch of paperwork to do after the Order meeting, and I guess I just fell asleep,” James said as he stumbled tiredly into Sirius’s room around five in the morning. His best friend had grown increasingly petulant about being left out of all of the ‘adventures’ (James repeatedly told him that war was not an adventure but it didn’t seem to be sticking), and he demanded that the lads fill him a play-by-play on everything that happened in the outside world. Praise Merlin Sirius only had four days left in the hospital; he was driving the three other Marauders crazy.

Because of his friend’s incessant neediness over the past few weeks, he was surprised (and a little hurt, if he was being honest), when Sirius simply waved him off, “No worries, Evans told me all about the meeting when she got in. Told me all about the ward she came up with. All the magical theory that went it into it, too, brilliant, yeah?. She’s got a lot of other spells in the work, did you know that? She showed me some of her work, it’s some really complex shit.”

“Is that so? And what else did your new best mate have to say?” James replied grumpily, taking a seat on the rickety chair next to the bed and staring blankly at the wall. He was not at all pleased with how chummy Lily and Sirius had become since the wizard’s accident. In his perfect dream world, James had always seen Lily and Sirius being best friends, all three of them hanging out, the rambunctious redhead becoming a natural extension of the Marauders. However, the reality was not nearly as much fun as he had imagined. Probably because James was not a part of the equation.

“She also said you kept staring at her during the meeting, and that it was super creepy,” Sirius shot back with a smirk. James head shot up and a panicked expression crossed his face. “I was _joking_ ,” his friend laughed, “Merlin, you’re twitchy. Though by your reaction I would say I wasn’t too far off?” 

James groaned, “Not too far off, no. I feel so pathetic, pining after her, it’s like I’m in fifth year all over again.” He put his head in his hands. “I went almost two years acting like a normal human being. What is happening to me?”

“Redheads, mate, they’re not good for you. I told you that you should only ever date brunettes. They’re always a safe bet.” Sirius waited to hear a chuckle from his best friend, but when all he got was silence, he continued more seriously, “Really though, Prongs, you need to get your shit together. I mean, I knew that Evans was fit as hell, anyone with eyes could see that, but I never really got the whole obsession thing. Always though she was a bit of a swot, boring and with a stick up her arse. But Merlin, she is actually, like, _cool_. Total badass, completely brilliant but in a terrifying way, which is the best way if you ask me. She’s helped me practice some dueling, so I can stay in shape and get back to the Auror Academy as fast as possible, and you know I try to stroke your ego as much as possible, mate, but I think she could kick your ass up and down the field. She sure kicked mine, although I plead injury. Great taste in music and whiskey, and she even smoked with me once.” He paused so he could fix James with a fierce look, “I actually like her, Prongs, and I know the other lads do too, so don’t you dare fuck this up.”

“Well, geez, no pressure,” James muttered, “If you’re so in love with her why don’t _you_ date her?”

“Because you’d castrate me if I did,” Sirius laughed back, before adding, “Also, once a woman has bathed you and fed you by hand, she kind of starts to feel like your mum, so it’d be gross. Saps all of the romance out, yeah?”

James chuckled, although he was a little put out. He was thrilled that Sirius _finally_ understood how great Lily was, but painfully jealous of the fact that his friend was getting to see sides of her that he feared he never would. Plus, he didn’t need anyone else putting pressure on him to not mess up; he spent enough time beating himself up over all the times he stuck his foot in his mouth. “Oh well, maybe next time I can get past monosyllables with her next time, yeah? Anyways, where is your new best friend? Isn’t she on shift now?”

“Ah, so _that’s_ why you waited to see me, hoping to trap her into a conversation? I’m feeling a bit used right now,” Sirius pouted.

“Shove it,” James retorted playfully, “I’m just _trying_ to be a good friend. If I happen to find myself chatting up a certain redhead, well, I call it fate.”

“Well, fate’s not on your side tonight, mate, Evans is out. Left about half an hour ago.” 

That got his attention.

“Out? What do you mean out?!” James demanded.

Sirius shrugged, “Didn’t ask, don’t really care.”

“It’s five in the fucking morning, where does she need to be this early? And we just had a whole damn meeting about how dangerous this area is getting, she shouldn’t be going off alone!” He paused a moment, before more logically continuing, “And anyways, she is supposed to be working in the hospital right now!”

“Calm down, mate,” his friend replied, “I told you she’s a wicked dueller, I’m sure she’ll be fine. And I’m the only one here, now that the Prewett twins are in fighting form again.” He paused, before continuing suspiciously, “This isn’t because you’re worried she’s out with some bloke, right? Because I’m almost it’s not that, it’s too weird of a time for a hook-up.” He smirked, “I’m pretty much an expert, so you can trust me on this one.”

James conceded that this had been half of the reason he was so upset, but _only_ half. “What if something were to happen to you, though?” the messy-haired wizard continued angrily, not willing to give in on this argument.

“Okay…” Sirius let out a long suffering sigh, “So, I was able to find another one of those two-way mirrors to give to her, in case I had an emergency when she was on one of her errands.”

“You WHAT?!” James cried, aghast, jumping out of his chair. The two-way mirrors were one of the many carefully guarded Marauders secrets, and it was considered treason to reveal them to an outsider. He was struck by another detail in his friend’s explanation, “And are you telling me she does this often?!”

Sirius shrugged again.

“I swear, Padfoot, if your _apathy_ is what gets Lily killed, I am going to _murder_ you!” he shouted as he paced back and forth across the room.

“Merlin, Prongs, sit the fuck down. I placed a trace on her mirror, okay? So I could find her in an emergency. I told you, I _do_ like her.” He continued under his breath, “Enough to _respect her privacy_.”

James heard, but ignored him. He was too angry, and also scared out of his fucking mind. He knew Lily was a talented witch, but he had been one of the first on the scene at the Bones’s place. That was whole family of talented witches and wizards, but once Voldemort wanted you dead, there was not a whole lot you could do about it. And the fiery redhead Muggleborn had a big fucking target on her back.

“I’ve got to find her,” he told his friend, demanding, “Where’s your mirror? Give it here.” He found it in a pocket of Sirius’s robes, piled at the foot of the bed. He ignored his friend’s protests and pleas for sanity, and instead raced out of the room, and the apartments, to find an apparition point, knowing that the mirror he clutched in his hands would lead him to its partner.

* * *

Lily was sitting on the shore of Beauly Firth when he found her, toes digging into the pebbled beach. The breeze carried a crisp autumn chill that raised goosebumps on her fair skin, and her knees were drawn into her chest, her head settled on top of them.

James was ready to begin shouting at her, scolding her for leaving the safe house without telling anyone where she was going after he had given a _whole bloody speech_ about how dangerous Scotland was right now, when he noticed what had captured her attention. Lily’s emerald eyes were watching a sea-green kelpie splash in the shallow water of the shoreline, its bulrush mane rustling in the wind. The drops of water that flew through the air sparkled in the pale moonlight. James could tell that the beast’s carefree nature was what had brought that small, bittersweet smile to her face.

He couldn’t help but be entranced by the image in front of him. It was strange, how perfectly Lily fit on this pebbled beach, the greyness of the sky tangible in the overhanging mist. Like it was inevitable, this moment.

He tried not to be distracted by how little Lily was wearing. What would have been a modest, one-piece swimsuit a couple of years ago now clung to her curves enticingly. He was fascinated by the broad expanse of creamy skin of her shoulders, and ached to draw the straps of her suit down so he could examine each and every one of the freckles that dusted the curve of back.

James hated himself a bit when instead he drew off his jacket and settled it around those same shoulders, to fend off the chilly air. She jumped at the contact, having not noticed his arrival, but surprised him when she simply drew the jacket a little closer and gave him a ghost of a smile as he took a seat next to her.

“Hey,” he said stupidly, head still a bit fuzzy from staring at her a moment too long. _Quite the Casanova_ , he chided himself. He tried to remember that he was angry at her, but the peacefulness of the setting had squashed any anger he had in him right out.

“Hey,” she said in return, “Sirius send you?”

“In a way,” he replied guiltily ( _she’s the one in trouble, I shouldn’t feel bad_ , he told himself to no avail), “I-um-we were worried about you going off on your own, you know, with everything that’s going on.”

“Let me guess, tracking device on the mirror?” A small smirk twisted her lips.

“Sorry,” he apologized quickly, hackles raising in defense automatically. He knew, from countless times that he had spied on the redhead during school, that she did not appreciate violations of privacy. He had been bald for a week during fourth year after he had been caught trying to sneak into her dormitory through the window (he swore it was because he just wanted to learn more about her interests, not to raid her panty drawer like she had accused him). Damn Founders had thought of everything. “Sirius and I were just-”

“Worried, yeah you said that already,” she smirked again, “I’ll probably be pissed at you, and Sirius, the traitor, tomorrow. But today,” she sighed, “I am just _tired_. Exhausted, from being angry at the world every fucking minute of every fucking day. And scared. Merlin, I’m scared.”

James was once again not totally sure what to do. He was usually pretty good at reading what people needed, and Merlin, he would give _anything_ to the people he loved, whatever they asked of him. But Lily seemed to take help as a personal insult, someone telling her that she wasn’t strong enough to go it alone. He wanted to wrap her in his arms, but last time he had tried that she hadn’t talked to him for weeks. Hell, this was really the first time they had talked since then. He really couldn’t fuck this up.

So, he decided to keep it simple. “I know,” he said, “I’m scared too. The world is a fucking terrifying place right now.” The words hung between them for a moment, but he could feel her relax next to him. _Typical_ , James thought with awry smile, _All she wants is to be told she’s right_. “So, what’s the deal with this?” he asked, changing the subject as he gestured at the kelpie.

Lily looked up and gazed affectionately at the aquatic beast, who was now laying down contentedly in the shallow water of the shore, let the waves wash over it. For the first time James noticed that there was a winding, blistering scar up its left hindquarter. “A couple of months ago, Dumbledore pulled me aside and told me the Merpeople that live in the Black Lake wanted to speak to me. I guess the Mermish community on the Eastern Coast had found an injured kelpie. The aquatic magical beast communities are very close, since they’ve had to live at war with land-dwellers for so long, so they were pretty upset about the poor kelpie. It’s a young one, just a baby, really. I guess a member from the Coalition Against Humanoid Beasts had set a trap for it, made of silver. It’s poisonous to kelpies, just like with werewolves. Would have died if the Merpeople hadn’t found it, set it free. Still, the silver had gotten into its blood, poisoned it. The Mermishcommunities aren’t very skilled with healing. A little difficult to brew potions underwater, yeah? So they asked me for help. It’s getting better, but it will take awhile before it is fully mobile again, or can transform itself. Stuck in horse form.” She paused thoughtfully, “Maybe I should come up with some sort of physical therapy?”

James had been staring at her with a growing sense of awe as she told her story. “Why in the world did the Merpeople request to talk to _you_?” he asked in disbelief before catching himself, “No offense.”

She offered him a wry grin, “None taken. When I was still in Muggle school, I was on the swim team. My mum said I was a mermaid in disguise.” Her eyes got a bit misty before she continued, “It was one thing I really missed when I got to Hogwarts. During school I would sometimes go swimming in the Black Lake. Imagine my surprise when I ran into a _real_ mermaid.”

 _I never knew that she liked to swim_ , James thought a bit sadly. He wondered how many other intrinsic pieces of Lily Evans he didn’t know about. “I thought people weren’t supposed to go swimming in the Black Lake? And anyways, don’t they live on the very bottom of it?”

Lily rolled her eyes, “The Marauders don’t have a monopoly on rule breaking, you know. As long as it’s not hurting anyone else, I figured it was fine.” 

“So that’s why you didn’t turn us in whenever we snuck out on the full moon,” James replied thoughtfully.

She shrugged, “I figured you were doing something to help Remus. I never figured out _how_ you were helping him without getting yourselves killed, but I assume it’s something I don’t want to know?”

James chuckled, “Yeah, you would probably murder us.”

“Plausible deniability, that’s the name of the game,” she grinned. “Anyways, after I encountered the Merpeople, I studied Mermish for a week straight until I could communicate with them, at least a little bit. I used a Bubble Charm, let me breathe as long as I wanted and allowed me to talk, too. They thought I was amusing, kind of a strange, ugly child to them I guess, so they let me stick around. They taught me a lot about Mermish culture, and their magic. Every magical being has its own completely unique brand of magic, did you know that?”

Lily’s emerald eyes sparkled as she talked, her enthusiasm for the subject palpable. Merlin, how did he never realize she was this interesting? He understood now what Sirius had been trying to tell him. Like Sirius, James had always known she was beautiful, yes, kind and brilliant too. But this Lily? He could listen to her talk for the whole damn day, maybe a week if he was being honest (and not just because she was wearing practically no clothing). He would do anything to keep her talking.

“Yeah?” he prompted, hoping for her to continue.

But all she did was turn her head to him, crimson waves falling in front of her eyes, “Yeah.” Suddenly she put her pinkies to her mouth, letting out a piercing whistle, “Oi! Tiree!” The kelpie’s head whipped up, the cat tails of its mane swishing against its long neck. “Time for your last treatment!” The horse drew itself up to its full height and stiffly limped over to Lily. She opened a jar that had been propped in the sand next to her and stood, grabbing a handful of the cream and rubbing it over the kelpie’s hindquarters. “Seems to get stiffer with the cold,” James heard her mutter under her breath, “I’ll have to come up with some long-lasting warming charm.”

James nervously stayed back from Lily and the beast. “Um, Evans, I forgot to ask,” he said nervously, “Aren’t kelpies supposed to be, um, a bit murderous?”

She shot him a glare, “Aren’t werewolves supposed to eat babies?”

“Point taken,” he chuckled darkly.

“Mythology does not seem to be kind to humanoids,” Lily replied, an edge to her voice. She finished rubbing the last bit of cream into the beast’s flanks before walking up to face the kelpie. “Okay, Tiree, I’ll be back in a week to reapply. Stay away from shiny things, yeah?” It nickered in reply before turning back to crashing waves, slowly walking into the sea until it was fully submerged.

Lily stood for a moment at the edge of the shore, letting the tide lap at her feet as she wistfully watched the retreating kelpie.

“You okay?” James asked her.

She shook her head, crimson curls flying around as she attempted to pull herself from her daydream, “I’ll be fine. It’s just been a day, yeah? Or a week I guess. A year, a decade. Take your pick.”

He chuckled, trying to make it seem like a joke even though he knew it was painfully true.

“Potter?” she said suddenly. Her face softened as she looked at him, in a way he would have thought was affection if he was anyone other than James Potter, and she was anyone other than Lily Evans. “Thanks. You know, for checking up on me. And listening. You’re pretty good at that, you know?” The way she held her breath, waiting to see what he said next, he knew this was her form of an apology. _Best I’m gonna get_ , he thought, before giving her a smile and a nod in return. She grinned at him before continuing, “And for not thinking I’m completely mad for spending my time with Merpeople and kelpies.”

“Oh, don’t get the wrong idea, I think you’re completely mad,” he chuckled, “Thankfully I’ve always had a thing for mad women.” 

 _Shit_ , he thought as she stiffened a bit at the comment. He was so used to teasing her, it had just slipped out. Trying to recover, he said, “I guess you can pay me back by telling me some more mad stories. I think I might die of curiosity, imagining all the trouble you’ve gotten up to.” He couldn’t help the smirk that formed at his insinuation. Damn, it was just too easy when it came to her. _Oh well_.

“Shove off, Potter,” she said, glaring at him (although he swore she was fighting a smile). “No, really, I’m going to take one more swim, clear my head a bit, before I head out. So shove off, yeah?” She took his jacket off her shoulders and balled it up, tossing it at him. 

James knew he had a funny grin on his face while he stared at her in that skimpy swimsuit, but he _literally_ couldn’t help it. Merlin, she was bloody gorgeous. He stood there for a bit, just staring, before he registered the look on her face. It was a fierce glare, a la fifth year. She raised an eyebrow at him. “Um, I like the swimsuit?” 

Lily didn’t break her glare even for a second, but he could see a blush rising on her inconceivably pale skin (he took that as a victory). “Bought it in sixth year, been too lazy to replace it. Anyways, see you later, Potter?” She gave him a pointed look that said, _Get the hell out of here…please._  

“Later, definitely,” he couldn’t help but grin, “You still owe me those stories.” He started walking away, preparing to apparate, but turned back to her, “Oh, and stop stealing my best friend, right?”

Lily rolled her eyes at him, but was grinning now, “It’s not my fault he likes me better, I’m pretty spectacular. Oh, and don’t forget that I’ll be angry at you tomorrow, so stay away from the pub if you want to keep that pretty face.” She flashed him a quick smile before turning tail and running into the surf, diving under the waves.

“I knew you thought my face was pretty, Evans! And nothing could keep me away!” he yelled after her, although he knew she probably couldn’t hear him. James stood there for awhile, the same goofy grin on his face, waiting for her to resurface. The moment he saw the telltale crimson curls floating on the waves, he apparated away.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello loves, thank you all for reading, reviewing, and following this story! This is a monster of a chapter, took me forever to write and got a bit away from me, but I think I may be in love with it. In case you have missed it in my other author’s notes in previous chapters, I went back and did a couple of edits. I moved the timeline back a couple of months, so this is November of 1979. I also went back and changed the physical description of Ellie Fate, I started writing her in this chapter and suddenly she was a different person and that was that. I would love to hear what you all think of this chapter, and if there is anything you would like to see in future chapters, so leave me a review!

6.

 

Lily and Benjy were sitting on top of a table in one of the many unused apartment rooms, digging through piles of books that the two of them had collected over the years. Across the room, Sirius was lounging in a regal armchair, paging through a magazine filled with motorbikes. 

“So these things actual move? To nearly 200 kilometers an hour? Without _any_ magic?” the aristocratic wizard asked in disbelief. 

“For the third time, Sirius, _yes_ ,” Lily groaned. Sirius and Benjy had spent a good amount of time together while the former was recovering in the Hospital. Originally they just kept running into one another, exchanging sarcastic remarks and sizing the other up the way men with larger-than-average egos tend to do. Then, suddenly, they became friends of sorts; Sirius was incredibly curious about the way that Benjy was able to seamlessly blend Muggle culture into his magical upbringing, and began barraging him with questions. Sirius, in turn, taught the American more about the history of British magical society, and all of the politics that had accumulated into the current Wizarding War. At first Lily had been ecstatic that her two friends were getting along; however, after the two of them started ganging up on her about everything and relentlessly teasing her, Lily regretted ever introducing them.

Even now that Sirius had been released, he hung around the apartments and the pub quite a bit. He claimed it was strictly Order business, just keeping an eye on the Inverness wizarding population, but Lily knew that it was much more likely that he was bored, and a bit lonely, with all of his friends so busy all of the time. And Remus had instructed her that it was incredibly important to never let Sirius stay bored for any prolonged period of time because very bad things tended to happen, so she did her best to put up with him.

“I bet with a few enchantments I could make one fly,” Sirius mused, “Oi, Fenwick, where would I acquire one of these motor bicycles?”

“It’s either a motorbike or a motorcycle, Sirius, not both at the same time,” the redheaded witch sighed, frustrated. He had been making comments like that every five minutes as he worked his way through a stack of Muggle magazines that Benjy and Lily had acquired for him. Usually she enjoyed these types of conversations, seeing it as huge progress that such a proper pureblood had interest in Muggle culture (hell, Sirius was even wearing a sharp-looking leather jacket that he had borrowed from Benjy that day). Plus, Sirius was generally intriguing to converse with. However, Lily was just a heartbeat away from a breakthrough about how to cast spells wandlessly, so these interruptions were driving her batty.

Wandless magic seemed to be like learning a language: easy to pick up as a child but quite a grueling process to learn as an adult. This was why Lily was trying to read as much as possible on the subject to get a firm grasp of the concept before she tried anything; it is said that failed wandless magic is ten times as destructive as accidental magic. Benjy had promised to assist in her research since he had witnessed so much wandless magic firsthand in Africa, although he had been less than helpful since Sirius had arrived. 

“I’ll take you to a dealership next week, Black.” the blond American replied absently, ignoring Lily’s irritated glare, “You’ll have to exchange some Galleons for Muggle money, though, yeah?” 

“How much Muggle money do I need? Would a thousand Galleons be enough? Probably not, I should bring two thousand…” 

Lily threw the ancient tome she had been painstakingly translating into English down onto the table. “That’s it, I’m done. This Swahili is giving me a headache, why in the world do we not have a translation charm? We’re fucking wizards, it shouldn’t be that hard!” She gestured wildly around the room at the candelabras fixed to the wall, “And what is with all the candles?! I get we have an aesthetic, but really? It’s _so_ much easier to read under _reliable_ electric lighting!” Benjy and Sirius both snickered at her outburst, while she leant back against the wall and dangled her legs off the table, pouting in frustration. 

“Oh, wow, Lily, I’ve been looking _all over_ for you!” Ellie Fate interrupted in a breathy voice as she peaked her head around the doorframe before entering the room in a swirl of blond waves and gauzy skirts, “And Sirius too! Lovely.” She gave them all a sweet smile, although it was a little bit unnerving because the fairy-like girl had a habit of staring right through you, as if she could see something just over your shoulder. The two wizards shared an uncomfortable look. Seven years of being the odd girl’s roommate, however, had made Lily impervious to her friend’s many quirks, and she simply smiled back. 

“Shouldn’t you have been able to find her automatically? After all, you have _the Sight_ ,” Sirius said sarcastically, waggling his fingers as he made fun of what he considered crackpot mystical powers. Lily thought his dismissiveness of divination was a bit silly, considering he had just been talking about flying motorcycles, but she held her tongue, not in the mood to get into it.

“Oh, there is _so_ much magic floating around this apartment, it tends to fog things up for me,” Ellie replied airily with a wave of her hand, taking no notice of his mocking tone, “It’s just like back at Hogwarts, so much happening in the now and the then and the almost, it’s difficult to get a clear vision.”

“That explains the ‘T’ I got in Divination, then, my Inner Eye was just all cocked up,” Sirius laughed, leaning forward to get a high-five from a snickering Benjy. _No,_ Lily thought worriedly as she observed their camaraderie, _I don’t like that friendship at all._

“What was it you needed, Ellie?” Lily asked as the other witch opened her mouth to reply. The blonde witch tended to take things literally, and would have spent the next hour discussing all the possible reasons for Sirius’s divination grade if no one stopped her.

“Right! Oh Lily, I’ve missed you. You keep my head on straight, yeah? Which is why we’re having this picnic, of course. Come on, love, the rest are waiting for us!”

“What in the world are you talking about, Ellie?” Lily asked with a confused but patient smile. Sometimes her friend mixed up her dreams and the real world, and had more than once shown up to go on different adventures with Lily that she didn’t remember ever agreeing to, “A picnic, is it?”

“Oh, yes, wow, I forgot that you didn’t know. We planned this weeks ago, yeah? It’s a Gryffindor reunion up by the castle on the hill. To celebrate that whole lot graduating from the Auror Academy, and us being alive, you know? I knew it would be a beautiful day for it, unseasonably warm.” A crooked-toothed smile broke across her face, so earnest that Lily felt a pain in her chest.

“Forgot that was today, good thing I happen to be here,” Sirius said as he pulled himself to his feet, “Coming, Lilybean?”

“Oh but, you know, I’m so busy…” said Lily, gesturing at the pile of books on the table, knowing as she said it that she would never really get away with the excuse. She loved hanging out with her friends, of course, usually stuck to no more than three or four of them at a time. More than that and she got this buzzing feeling in her stomach, like she had swallowed a hive of bees.

“Bollocks, you just said you had given up,” Benjy corrected, and the redhead slapped his arm in retaliation. “Hey!” he complained, “Sunshine is _good_ for you, you need some Vitamin D.”

“Don’t you dare say anything,” Lily warned Sirius with a glare, just as he opened his mouth with a wicked grin. “Dick jokes are just scraping the bottle of the joke barrel. Low, even for you.” 

“Tell that to Shakespeare,” Benjy retorted, earning another high-five from Sirius (although the pureblood didn’t totally get the joke but was happy to go along with the ribbing), before fixing his stare back on Lily, “Really though, Red, you need to get out of here for a bit. You have a couple hours until your next shift. Get out, grab some sunshine, talk to your friends. Isolation is not a good look on you. You’re becoming a hermit.” 

The redhead glowered at him for a bit before she sighed, giving in. As she stood up, Lily asked the other witch, “Why didn’t anyone tell me beforehand, if you all have been planning this for weeks?”

“We knew that you would schedule something at the same time to get out of it,” Ellie beamed back.

“You could tell that with the Sight?” Lily asked, impressed for once. Her friend’s predictions had always been a bit hit or miss, in her opinion.

Sirius snorted, “Anyone could have guessed that. For such a popular person, you sure hate people.”

“I don’t _hate_ people,” the redhead argued, blushing self-consciously, “The idea of social situations just stresses me out sometimes.” 

“Hence the need for secrecy,” the dark-haired wizard drawled, “It was a favor, really, we saved you from a lot of social anxiety. Now get a move on, they’re probably waiting for us downstairs.”

Lily blanched; there was honestly not much to argue there. _How irritating_ , she thought. Her friends were getting much too smart for her taste. “Okay, okay, let me go change, yeah? Unseasonably good weather and all, it’s still November in Scotland and I need to put on something a little warmer.” She gestured down at her ratty Queen t-shirt and worn, grey sweatpants. 

“You have five minutes before I barge in with a camera and start taking pictures,” Sirius grinned threateningly. 

“I’m going, I’m going,” Lily cried, holding her hands up in defeat before rushing back to her bedroom. She dug through the pile of laundry in her closet, holding up different tops to her nose to smell, before picking a chunky, cream turtleneck. _Merlin, I need to do laundry_ , she thought tiredly. It was interesting, she thought, that now that laundry only took ten minutes and a few choice spells, she seemed to do it far less. She figured it was because before, in the Muggle world, she would have to set aside nearly a whole day to get it all done. Now that it only took a little bit of time, she counted on the fact that she could get it done in a heartbeat later. Only, later never seemed to come. 

She quickly threw on the sweater before looking in the grimy mirror in her bathroom. It was definitely a bit loose, since she had lost a lot of weight through stress and her tendency to forget to eat, but it would have to do. She shimmied some jeans on and grabbed a battered navy peacoat before throwing open her door. 

Sirius was standing on the other side of it, grinning wickedly as he aimed a camera at her. The flash left her doe-eyed, her irises impossibly large. “I bet you thought I was joking,” he laughed. 

“Never can tell with you,” Lily muttered darkly, pushing him aside as she made her way down the maze of hallways to the staircase leading out of the apartments. 

A chorus of “Lily!” and “Evans!” greeted her as she pushed into the musty pub. Just as Ellie had said, all of the former Gryffindors of her year were gathered at the bar. Even Dorcas was with them, dressed in the fashionable outfit Lily had picked out for her when she had taken her friend shopping in Muggle London to “get in touch with her culture”. (In reality, Lily just really needed to replace her favorite old pair of jeans from Harrod’s, but hadn’t wanted to venture into the city alone). “I got Emmeline Vance to cover my shift in the hospital for a couple of hours,” Dorcas explained in answer to Lily’s questioning look. The redhead wrinkled her nose in distate at the thought of her old school rival, but just nodded in return. 

“Well, looks like the gang’s all here,” Lily grinned at them, and only slightly passive aggressively at that. As much as she disliked the idea of social interactions, whenever she was (forced to be) a part of them, she usually ended up enjoying it. A bit of booze to help settle those damn bees never hurt, though. She made her way around the bar and began pulling bottles of her favorite liquor, holding them up to her friends, “We got room in the picnic basket for these?” 

“A girl after my own heart,” Marlene cried, dramatically holding her hand over her heart, before opening the basket she was carrying to her friend, “It’s Ever-Expanding, throw it in!” It seemed she had prepared for the night in town by wearing her best Muggle clothing, as well. This caused Lily to forcefully hold back a laugh because Marlene only owned Muggle clubwear, so was currently wearing a tight dress made out of a shimmery, stretchy silver material and a sleek fur coat. To top it all off, she was wearing a pair of ridiculous, silver knee-high boots. 

“Won’t the booze come out of your paycheck?” Remus asked worriedly; his Muggle clothing was much more on-point, with caramel corduroy trousers and a maroon jumper. He was working in a Muggle bookshop (Lily had told him that if he told the owners he had to miss work every full moon they would just assume he was some weird hippie and not bother him about it) and was much more in touch with what was appropriate to wear in the “real” world. 

At his words Dorcas and Lily looked at each other and then burst out laughing. Lily leaned over the bar as she pounded her fist on it, while Dorcas hung on to Peter; neither of them could breath, they were laughing so hard. When Lily finally got herself under control, wiping a tear from her eyes, she wheezed, “Oh, Remus, thank you. I needed that.” She took another steadying breath before continuing, “To answer your question, we don’t get a paycheck. We were given the pub and a nice lump of Galleons to get it up and running; from there it was up to us. Our ‘paycheck’ is made up of whatever measly profit we can pawn off of you alcoholic buggers. Next time think about leaving a tip, yeah?” The redhead poked Remus in the side. 

“That’s strange, that Dumbledore didn’t plan for a more steady income for you,” the werewolf replied thoughtfully. Lily always thought that if the Order officially made Remus Dumbledore’s secretary, they might actually be winning the war. _These_ were the sensible observations that people needed to be making. 

“Oh, I just figure he’s more of a big picture than a details kind of wizard,” Lily replied, waving him off in an attempt to keep the whole group at ease, when in fact she had been looking over the books just yesterday, and things were looking a bit worrisome. “Anyways, we get free room and board, and the pub does well enough. And every once in awhile we get a new lump of Galleons to pay for expenses for the Hospital Wing and all of the potions I make. We’re fine.” _As long as a new lump of Galleons shows up soon_. With that grim thought, she grabbed the last bottle of liquor, a new kind of Polish vodka she’d picked up last time she was in London, before closing up the picnic basket (keeping a bottle of firewhiskey in her hand to pass around on the way there). “We off, then?” 

“Just waiting on you, Evans,” James replied, mussing his hair as he gave a crooked smile, “So, you coming willingly or are we going to have to Stun you to force you to have some fun?” He walked backwards as they made their way out of the pub and down the street, towards Inverness Castle, watching the redhead as she stuck out her tongue in reply. She supposed he thought it made him look _cool_ (it did, but she would never admit it). Lily felt a lot better about her life when she saw how he was dressed: it was pretty much their school uniform (black trousers, white button down, and black dress shoes) but paired with a grey wool coat instead of the usual black robes. _Guess I’m not the only one who hasn’t done laundry_ , she thought wryly. Either that, or he really didn’t own any non-wizarding clothing. _Which would be a complete disservice to the world_ , she mused absently, _to never see James Potter in a nice pair of jeans…_  

“No worries, Prongs,” Sirius drawled as he came up behind Lily and swung an arm over her shoulders, thankfully drawing her out of her disturbing daydreams, “I blackmailed her with some naked pictures I took of her, she _will_ be having fun today.” Sirius and Lily both barked out laughter as they watched James trip and fall onto his arse, his eyes widening in shock. 

“Oh Merlin, you should have seen your face, Potter,” Lily laughed, her smile slipping loose with the same effortlessness as the wind picking up her curls as it gusted around them. She took a (slightly longer than she intended) swig from the firewhiskey bottle, allowing it to wash warmly over the permanent knot in her chest, loosening her up just a bit (the bit that would make all the difference that afternoon). She could feel her blood and veins moving like a cat stretching in the sun, all warmth and contentment. She winked cheekily at James as she said, “Don’t worry, I’m sure Sirius will share with you.” She jabbed the wizard in question in the side with one of her elbows, slipping loose from his arm and placing the bottle of booze there instead. She flounced away, knowing that both boys would be watching her go and reveling in the attention. (Her friends always told her that when she got drunk she was a flirt, but she told them that alcohol just gave her _confidence)._  

Ellie skipped up to Lily’s side, her blonde waves billowing out behind her like a cape, and intertwined their hands. The girl had always been that way, sidling up closely to people to look over their shoulder, hugging strangers, the like. She didn’t quite have a grasp of what other people considered personal boundaries. “Oh Lily, I _am_ sorry,” the blonde whispered to her as she drew up close, worrying her lip with her slightly bucktooth, uneven teeth, “I really didn’t want to invite Potter, but I _couldn’t_ just leave one person out, yeah?” 

The blonde witch was the only one of Lily’s friends who had completely understood her disdain for James Potter. Marlene, Dorcas, and Alice had all grown up in the same circles with him, and the rest of the Marauders too, going to the same birthday parties and playing in the Quidditch Little League together. They weren’t best friends or anything (well, James and Marly were but they were pretty much brought up as brother and sister so Lily had forgiven the betrayal) but they all knew of each other, and had come into Hogwarts with certain expectations (i.e. low expectations) of James’s behavior. The messy-haired wizard’s immaturity only made the three girls roll their eyes, rather than want to punch him in the face like it did Lily. Even if Ellie hadn’t grown up half in the Muggle world due to her mother, the Fate family was seen as a bit of odd birds in Pureblood society and, like most families with Seer blood, tended to stay pretty isolated. Thus, Ellie had come into Hogwarts just as ignorant of societal expectations as Lily, and was just as unimpressed. The quirky witch was always the one that she went to when she needed to rant about James, and could count on her for unconditional support for the different revenge schemes that the fiery redhead drew up in her anger. 

For once, though, Lily did not feel the need to take part in the Potter-bashing. “You know, Elle, we’ve actually been fine lately.” The witch’s pale blue eyes widened in alarm until they looked like saucers, making Lily chuckle, “Merlin, I’m not Imperiused or anything, no need to look so concerned. We’re not friends or anything, alright? Just, you know, not enemies. Allies, let’s say. He’s been less of a prat lately, and we’re in the middle of a war, yeah? There needs to be a bit of peace _somewhere_.”

Ellie still looked at her concernedly, chewing her lip, “Just be careful, okay, Lily? There’s something about him, with you, that just feels…risky…” She got that foggy look in her eyes that told Lily that her friend was seeing beyond what she ever would be able to. Sometimes she wondered if Ellie ever got lonely, being the only one who could see all of these unimaginable things. 

Lily nudged the smaller witch, drawing her out of the fog, “Trust me, Ellie, I don’t see Potter as an important fixture in my future. I’ll be fine.” She smiled down at her friend and, finally relaxing, Ellie smiled that stunningly innocent smile back. “Let’s just enjoy today, yeah?” 

Hand in hand, the two young witches laughed as they ran through the cobblestone streets towards the castle on the hill. 

* * *

 Further back in the group, Sirius was pulling a stunned James to his feet, not even trying to hide his laughter.

“Please tell me those pictures actually exist,” James said, dazedly watching as Lily skipped away, her hips swinging entrancingly in those tight Muggle trousers. He thought it was immoral for Hogwarts to require robes for their school uniforms; they had hidden those hips from him for _years_.

“Why, did you finally destroy that picture you have from when the girls decided to go sunbathing sixth year down by the Black Lake?” Sirius teased, waggling his eyebrows. 

“Of course not,” James scoffed, insulted, not even blushing at the insinuation. All of the Marauders were shit at Silencing spells, and had very little understanding of personal boundaries, causing them to often go through each other’s things. Because of this, there had never been much mystery surrounding the different fantasies that each of the boys played out when they were taking care of themselves. “I cast an _Impervius_ charm on that ages ago. It would be nice to have something new though, the older I get the pervier I feel, there’s so much of an age difference now, yeah?” 

Sirius laughed, “Hate to break it to you, Prongs, but that was always pervy. Also, there are no pictures.” James glared fiercely at his friend ( _the great betrayer, more like)_ , who just ignored him, “I do have it on good authority, though, that Lily never locks her doors. Play it right and you might at least have a couple new moments to add to the wank bank, yeah?” 

“Why would you even joke about something like that?” James moaned, “Got my hopes up, you prick.” He ran his hand through his hair, feeling like quite the tortured soul. He had been far too busy with the Academy lately (thank Merlin they were finally done) and hadn’t been with a girl in weeks. Add that to an unusually high amount of time spent in close quarters with Lily, and he was feeling incredibly sexually frustrated. The radiant redhead was popping up in more and more of his fantasies (unintentionally most of the time, he was really trying to give being her friend a go since their last armistice, and wanking off to the thought of the other licking your neck is not what friends do, in his experience) and it was becoming increasingly painful to be around her. He needed to get shagged, and soon. For the sake of friendship. Taking all of this into consideration, he continued, “And you know, Pads, Lily and I are actually on good terms at the moment. I don’t think barging in on her naked would win me any favors.”

“On the contrary, if you played your cards right I think it could win you _many_ favors,” Sirius drawled in reply. James punched his arm in reply. He didn’t need his mind in the gutter while the girl in question was strolling along only a meter ahead of him. Plus, that line of thought would only lead to him barging into her room every five minutes. Once again, tragically not something that a friend would do. 

“What’s been keeping you lot?” Remus called out to them over his shoulder, prompting the two wizards to jog to catch up to the rest of the group. 

“Prongs’s latent sexual frustration. I’m thinking we could convince the girls to skinny dip in the river and watch him cream his pants. Would be good entertainment for the night.” Sirius took a swig from the firewhiskey bottle before passing it to the other lads. 

“Wouldn’t mind seeing Dorcas without a top myself,” Peter agreed, taking a smaller sip and coughing as it burnt its way down his throat. 

“You know Dorcas chases for the other team, mate?” James asked, raising his eyebrows. Dorcas had been going steady for quite a while with a girl in Ravenclaw before her blood status had come out in seventh year. It had been a bloody mess, that breakup, lots of screaming in the hallways and hexes being thrown. It had been an incredibly terrifying period of time for the male population of Hogwarts, involving _two_ hysterical females as it did. He shuddered at the memory. 

“Doesn’t change the fact that she has fantastic tits,” Peter replied unabashedly, taking another sip from the bottle; this time it went down easier, and James could see the flush rising up on his friend’s cheeks. Pete was a bit of a light weight, but he was a very friendly drunk so no one minded. 

Sirius stole the bottle back from his friend, taking a long swig before thrusting it in the air, “I’ll toast to that, mate. Marlene’s fit as hell, but you’ve got to have at least an artistic appreciation for tits like that.” The other boys nodded; no one could deny that Dorcas was the curviest of the Gryffindor girls. Ellie literally looked like one of the fairies they studied in Care of Magical Creatures, very spindly and breakable-looking. Marlene was lean and wiry, while Alice was round-faced but more stocky than plump since taking up such a rigorous exercise regiment in the Academy. Lily had always been willowy, with just the right amount of curves to add a bit of softness (in James’s expert opinion), although she had been growing thinner recently, leaving her a bit skeletal. 

“Can we _please_ talk about something other than our friends’ tits?” Remus snapped, stealing the bottle and taking an alarmingly long drink. The full moon was only five days away, and the werewolf tended to get more prickly the closer it got. It was a relief when the lads were able to get him buzzed, it took the edge off a bit. 

Sirius had already opened his mouth to reply, probably to rib Remus a bit, when Peter expertly stepped in. “Did you hear that Gwenog Jones is getting recruited to the Holyhead Harpies straight out of Hogwarts? Already signed the contracts and everything!” 

“I don’t blame them, I would have paid anything to have her on the Gryffindor team during our last year, bit of a miracle we were able to pull out the Cup with her on Hufflepuff,” James replied quickly, always eager for a good Quidditch talk. As the rest of the lads joined in, he was immensely thankful (for about the millionth time) for Peter. Remus and Sirius had very different lifestyles, and tended to rile each other up a bit. James knew he was a bumbling idiot when it came to confrontation (see: any interaction he’d ever had with Lily) and only ever made it worse. A lot of people didn’t understand why the rest of them hung out with Peter, saw him as just a hanger-on, but he had the coolest head in a crisis and was able to keep the rest of them from ripping each other’s heads off or running head-on at whatever trouble came their way. James was ninety percent sure that they wouldn’t have made it out of Hogwarts alive without the calm (and sure, slightly manipulative) handling of the squat wizard. 

They had debated nearly every aspect of the British and Irish Quidditch league and were halfway to drunk when they caught up to the girls, who had set up a purple blanket with yellow stars on it (which strangely reminded James of Dumbledore, although that could be just the drink) at a somewhat flat spot on the Inverness Castle grounds. The imposing red sandstone castle was situated on top of a steep cliff, though, so even though it was somewhat flat James still tilted unsteadily when he took a seat. The castle grounds were mostly clear, neither many trees nor tourists to muck up the view of the grand building, or of the serene river that it overlooked. Despite having so few trees, there were a surprising number of leaves littering the ground, and every time James shifted in his seat there was a pleasant crinkling noise beneath him. 

The girls were all rolling around on the ground in hysterics, playing a game where they took a drink of gigglewater and tried to hold the giggle in. Marlene had just taken a sip, crossing her eyes as she held her breath, trying her hardest to swallow the giggle that was building up in her chest. She ended up spitting out her drink, spurting all over the blanket as the rest of the girls heaved with laughter. 

“I think I peed my pants a little,” Lily gasped, her face as red as her hair from lack of oxygen. Her face was wet with tears, and she wiped at her bleary eyes. Clearing them, she suddenly realized that the four wizards had finally joined them, “Oh, hello boys! Impeccable timing, as always.” The rest of the girls cracked up once again; Lily was notoriously known for being caught by the Marauders in the most embarrassing situations. (Little did she know that it was a concerted group effort. James had pleaded with the lads to help him win Lily over by telling him whenever they found her in a good mood, so he could suddenly appear and she would begin to associate happiness with him. Great mates that they were, they made sure that James only found her in situations that were completely humiliating for the both of them). 

“So what did we miss, then?” Peter asked, the last to settle onto the blanket. He was a bit winded from the walk up, and only some of that was due to the drink. 

“Well we’re all properly pissed, some in more ways than others,” Marlene teased, making Lily turn impossibly redder, “And Alice has gone and gotten herself fucking married!” 

There was a roar of incoherent phrases of confusion, congratulations, and condolences (the last from Sirius). 

“How in the world did I not know this?!” James cried, “It’s not like we haven’t spent nearly every waking moment together for the past two years! I didn’t even know you were engaged!” 

“We skipped that step. We talked it over, knew we were in love and didn’t want to wait. It happened last weekend,” Alice said simply, “Frank and I went with our families to the Ministry, a very straightforward affair. Didn’t want to make a fuss, not with a war on.” 

“I still can’t believe Frank let you get away with that,” Lily sighed in apparent exasperation at her painfully practical friend. It shocked James a bit too: Frank Longbottom was an absolute mess when it came to the witch, practically waxing poetic whenever he spoke of her. He wouldn’t have been surprised if the Auror had kept a binder of wedding plans under his bed since he first started dating Alice, he was that crazy about her. He would have wanted to make a big show of his love, for sure, with white doves and red roses and that kind of drivel. 

“Augusta and I were able to convince him,” Alice replied with a slight smirk over her turquoise plastic cup as she took a sip of the wine that the girls had pulled out of the picnic basket. 

“If I didn’t know how head over heels you were for Frank, I’d have thought you were marrying him for his mother, the way you carry on,” Remus joked, making them all laugh. It was true. Augusta Longbottom was probably the most terrifying witch James had ever met, even more so than McGonnagal. When he had first met her at one of his parent’s charity balls, she had spent fifteen minutes lambasting him for the state of his hair. He had almost cried (and he had been nine at the time, far past the crying phase). Everyone had always felt pity for the unfortunate girl that Frank would one day bring home. Somehow, though, when Alice had joined Frank over the Christmas holidays their seventh year, she and Mrs. Longbottom had become fast friends. It seemed they were made of the same stock, ramrod straight backs and unflinching, critical eyes. No one was sure whether to be relieved for Frank, or to feel twice as bad for him. 

“I’m a bit bitter that I didn’t get to be your Maid of Honor,” Marlene pouted, blowing out her sharp bangs with a huff in mock anger.

“Oi, who said _you_ would be Maid of Honor?” Lily protested, “I am damn honorable! She could have picked me!” 

The two girls continued to squabble, while Alice rolled her eyes to the heavens. “ _This_ ,” she told the rest of them, “Is exactly why I wanted to avoid making it a big thing. Not to mention all of the cousins…” She pretended to shudder, making them all laugh. Coming from the immense Prewett clan, Alice had an overwhelming amount of relatives, especially now that her cousin Molly had married into the equally large (although much more ginger) Weasley family. James was truly coming to understand the wisdom of Alice’s decision. 

“Okay, okay, enough wedding talk!” Sirius said, calling them all to order, “Really, you tossers, I thought we were supposed to be celebrating the beginning of our young lives, not our swift passage into mind-numbing monogamy? Love you forever, by the way, Marls,” he added quickly when his girlfriend started to give him a dirty look. “Anyways, let’s get the food situated, I’m starving here.” 

Dorcas and Lily went right into waitress mode, getting everything properly distributed in a matter of minutes, no magic necessary. It seemed that Dorcas and Mary had provided a vast array of sandwiches for them all (and they were all edible, quite good even, indicating that Lily had been far away from the kitchen when they had been assembled). Their mouths were all stuffed when James was suddenly hit by a thought. 

“Hold up, hold up! Every spit out your food right now!” he cried, waving his hands around madly. The Marauders promptly spit out their sandwiches (James smiled proudly at their unquestioning loyalty). 

The girls, however, were not used to blindly following his orders. “Are you barking?” Lily protested through a mouth full of egg salad sandwich, while the other witches merely rolled their eyes and swallowed their bites. The redhead eyed the wizards of the group and (having finished her own bite) said, “Why didn’t you lot just swallow?” 

“Didn’t really occur to us, I think,” Peter intoned thoughtfully. The rest of the Marauders nodded sheepishly. 

“Anyways, now that I have your attention,” James began again, “We completely cocked up this entire meal. How are we supposed to celebrate if we didn’t even make a proper toast?” 

“Oh yes, it’s all ruined, what was the whole point of graduating the Auror Academy if you weren’t going to get a toast?” Lily interjected sarcastically. 

“Exactly!” the messy-haired wizard cried, ignoring Lily’s sarcasm and pretending (not for the first time) that she was simply agreeing with him. “We must mark this historic occasion!” 

“We need something stronger than this, then, it’s been quite the year,” Marlene interjected, scrunching her nose at the offending plastic cup in her hand that currently held a nice Cabernet. 

“Oooh, I’ve got just the thing,” Lily cooed, rummaging through the picnic basket until she pulled out a round bottle of clear liquid, “I’ve been meaning to give this a go, grabbed it awhile ago in London.” The group all downed their wine so that the redhead could distribute the vodka. 

“What shall we toast to, then?” Dorcas asked the group with a half-smile. James was a bit surprised that she had been the one to speak up; she was usually quite reserved in group settings. He had known her since they were children, and she had always been the most proper little Pureblood heir, all fake smiles, carefully coiffed hair and ironed dress robes. But she had never let her personality show for even a second, so he figured he didn’t really know her at all in the ways that mattered. The only real things he knew about the dark-skinned girl was that the Gryffindor girls viewed her as one of them (and would hex anyone who said otherwise) and that she was a bit of a pitbull when it came to Lily. He supposed that made her alright, then. 

“First of all, I raise my glass to never having to take another exam!” Marlene cried, getting things started. 

“To legally being allowed to curse the majority of my family,” Sirius drawled, clinking his glass with a reluctant Remus. 

“To love,” Lily said in a sickly sweet voice, poking Alice in the side, who stuck her tongue out at her friend in reply. 

“Oh, and to being alive for now, of course,” lilted Ellie with a startlingly wide smile. 

“All right then, you sods, let’s get it over with then, yeah?” James agreed, calling them all to order. He raised his glass in the air solemnly, all of the other witches and wizards following his example. “To life, love, and being kick-ass Aurors! 

With a chorus of, “Here, here!” they all downed drinks, warm smiles coming to their lips.

“Merlin, that’s fantastic!” Sirius cried in wonder as soon as he had downed his shot, “You could sip at this, it’s that good!”

Lily hiccupped a bit before giving him a smile, “What can I say, I have great taste. It’s called zubrowka, it’s from Poland. Guess they’ve really got it right, eh?”

Sirius nodded as he refilled their cups, “Another round then, everyone, yeah? To zubrowka!”

“To zubrowka!” they all cried, raising their glasses once again.

* * *

 For that group of young witches and wizards, pawns in a terrible war that they were only just beginning to understand, that evening would be one of their last truly happy memories. The rest of the evening would be preserved in all of their minds in the kind of rosy haze that came from a combination of moderate intoxication and a good dose of hilarity.

Lily taught them all how to play freeze tag, the nine of them stumbling around the castle grounds as they chased after one another. At one point Sirius had tackled Marlene to the ground, and the two of them ended up in a heated snogging session while the rest of them threw whatever was closest to them (food, leaves, and James might have even nailed Sirius on the head with a rock but who was to say) and wondered loudly how pathetic the rest of them were that _Marlene_ _and_ _Sirius_ were the only ones who had managed to get in a committed relationship (they didn’t count Alice, married woman that she was, she had been off the dating scene for awhile now).

As they ate a second helping of the sandwiches, Ellie deftly wove daisy chains for everyone. Sirius, James, and Marlene argued loudly over who had the most regal-looking crown, while Lily railed at them all about how this hippie trend was making light of the massive anti-war cultural movement that the whole flower-power idea had stemmed from (she nearly clocked James in the face when he made a flower pun at that). All of them laughed as Remus carefully placed a flower crown on a dozing Peter’s head, making the round-faced wizard look a bit like a sleeping cupid. 

Dorcas and Alice blew bubbles into the air, while the rest of them chased after them like mad children. They rolled down the steep hills, tumbling into a mess of limbs at the bottom before they were back on their feet, ready for another go. They went through three and a half bottles of liquor, and at least twenty sandwiches. Their ribs ached from laughter, and their cheeks were pinched from smiling so much. 

The sun was just beginning to set when the group started breaking up. Dorcas had to get back to the Hospital to relieve Emmeline, and Alice had told Frank she would be back before dark (which they teased her profusely for). She took Ellie with her as she apparated back into London, dangerous as it was to travel alone at night. Remus was able to rouse Peter long enough to attempt Side-Along Apparition back to their flat, and Marlene and Sirius decided to take things back to her place (they were eager to continue their interrupted freeze-tag snog session). 

Suddenly it was just James and Lily standing side-by-side on the edge of the jagged cliff that hung over the River Ness as the evening devolved into a peachy glow. They stood silently, watching the sun set on a castle that had withstood a countless number of wars before them, and would no doubt outlast them through the one they faced now. The alcohol that laced their veins allowed them to feel comfortable being alone together, although still at a loss for words to fill the silence between them. 

Lily’s scarlet locks had become a mess throughout the day, her curls tumbling into a haphazard heap around her shoulder. Her hair had frizzed up a bit around the top of her head, emphasizing the daisy crown that had somehow stayed in place even after her many trips rolling down the hill. Leaves adorned her sweater and jacket, making her look like a child playing at camouflage. The gloss on her lips was smudged from too many sips from the bottle, and her cheeks were red from the chill that had come with the setting sun. 

James thought she looked brilliant. 

James himself had grass stains up and down the back of his white shirt that he would never completely get out. He had leaves in his mussed up hair, and his glasses had gotten bent sometime throughout the evening. Behind the spectacles he had red in his eyes, and a flush on his cheeks from that last sip of firewhiskey. He had an easy smile as he threw rocks into the river.

Lily thought he was fascinating.

“I’ve thought about becoming an Animagus,” the redhead said, surprising them both as she broke the silence. She continued to stare out over the rocky edge. “My mum used to read this fairytale to me, about princesses who had been cursed by their wicked stepmother and turned into swans. I can’t recall the whole story now,” she looked at her hands sadly for a moment, “But I remember never quite understanding how that was a curse, being a bird. They could all fly away, yeah? Go wherever they want to go, see whatever they want to see. And now I have magic, so why shouldn’t I be able to turn into a bird, too? Just fly away…” She took one step closer to the rocky edge, spreading her arms like they were wings.

“So why don’t you just become one?” James asked simply, the question of a boy who had never been told no. 

(Except when it came to her.) 

“It takes months, yeah? Maybe years. I figure it won’t be long until Muggleborns are banned from practicing magic, let alone registering as an Animagus. Not worth the effort, I reckon,” Lily replied hollowly. 

“Why not take out a broom, then?”

“It’s all your fault, you know, James,” she replied, still looking straight ahead as she stretched her arms, trying to grasp the wind. “That I hate brooms. You had to make such a big deal of it, with your hair and your snitch and your smug face whenever you flew around all effortlessly. Put me off it for good.” 

“What a load of shit, Evans,” James laughed at her, a nice strong one that rumbled deep in his chest, “If I had given up every time you were better than me at something I would have failed out of school. The arrogance!” He have her a sidelong glance, and smirked as he said, “Probably a good thing that you never gave it a shot, though, with a head as big as yours you probably wouldn’t be able to get your broom off the ground, yeah?” 

“Oh, shut up,” she laughed, finally turning to him as she smacked his arm playfully. As her sparkling green eyes met his warm hazels, it struck them both at the exact same time how close they were standing to each other. Lily was a bit breathless when she said, “Maybe you could take me flying some day, yeah? Give it another go.” 

“Yeah,” James breathed in reply, unable to get more than a single syllable out. 

James was captivated by her open-mouthed smile. 

Lily wondered if his lips would still taste like firewhiskey.

And suddenly they came crashing together, James losing his hands in her knotted mess of hair while Lily grasped hungrily at the back of his neck, pulling him closer. It was inelegant, the way their teeth clashed and they pressed their bodies impossibly close together. Their tongues and hands explored each other desperately, each touch haunted by the thought in the back of their minds that this was all they had, that the second they broke apart that would be it, done.

And then the moment was lost, and they were standing a meter apart staring at each other like the world had ended because it had, and neither one of them would ever be able to kiss another without knowing that something was missing because this was it, this was everything.

But Lily was scared out of her mind because her world had just _stopped_ , but he would want it all, would want every piece of her and she could never give it to him because every person she had ever truly loved and who she had allowed to truly love her in return had either left her or been taken away and if she had to go through that again she would _break_. 

And James could see this all written on her face and he wanted to do a million things, to kiss her or tell her that he loved her or tell her that they could run away if that’s what she needed, that he would fucking do _anything_ to have her but he was frozen because he knew anything he did, anything he said, would just push her farther away and the meter between them already felt like miles so even though his blood was on _fire_ and he felt like he might explode from feeling _too much_ he stayed perfectly still. 

They stayed like that for what felt like hours, just standing and staring at the other. And then Lily walked over to where the picnic blanket was set up and piled everything back into the basket, and she was walking silently away from the castle and down the hill, away from him, and all James could do was watch her receding figure as the sky turned a hundred shades of purple and the sun set. 

And neither of them knew what would happen next. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends, here is your next chapter! Thank you for everyone who left lovely reviews. This chapter is definitely not as cheery as the previous one, don't hate me for it! I have a plan, trust me. I already have the next chapter almost completed, so I should be able to update very soon! Thank you once again for all of your encouragement, let me know how you like this chapter!

7.

 

Lily had met Collin Davies at the Farmer’s Market on one of her afternoons off a couple of months ago. He was a former Ravenclaw, the Head Boy when Lily was a fourth year, and had the perfect Oxford graduate look, all sport jackets and carefully combed hair. He had an entry-level job in the Ministry, and a flat that was walking distance to Bellfield Park. He was incredibly intelligent, although he did not have much of a sense of humor, but was always the perfect gentleman, owled her back promptly and everything. And, he was a great snog. 

It was the last detail that Lily was most occupied with as they crashed their way up the back stairs of the Mucky Duck to her room. Collin had her pushed up against the bannister and was running his hands up and down her backside in a way that sent a thrill through her. She bit at his lip and pulled away, dragging him behind her. They just made it through the doorway of her bedroom before Collin’s hands were pulling Lily’s shirt over her head, tossing it onto her counter before pressing her against it and dragging his lips up and down her neck. She closed her eyes and tossed her head back, ready to let Collin make her forget there was a war going on, that her life was going to shit, to just _let go_.

“Hey Evans, where’s the dittany? There wasn’t any in the closet-” 

Lily’s eyes shot open and she shoved Collin away in shock as she took in James standing in her open doorway. How had she forgotten to close the door? To be fair, usually when she had free time that meant that Dorcas and Mary would be busy in other parts of the building, so she never had to worry about privacy before, but now that the lads were around all the time… 

“Looking good, Evans,” James smirked as he allowed his eyes to rove over her body, pausing at her chest. Lily looked down at herself, suddenly remembering that she wasn’t currently wearing a shirt, and she crossed her arms over her chest. 

“GET OUT JAMES!” Lily shouted at him, coloring from both rage and extreme embarrassment. 

James had turned his attention to her partner now, though. Collin’s eyes had widened in apparent terror, and was stumbling over his words, “Potter…when…where…didn’t know…” 

James fixed Colin with a hard stare, stating, “Remember the score, Davies.” 

Lily did not know what was going on, but could not stand to have James in her room for a second longer, not when he was looking at her again _like that_. Tossing her balled up t-shirt at him, the closet projectile to her, she shouted once again, “Potter! NOW!” 

“So demanding, I guess we know who’s on top in this relationship,” James said with another smirk, deftly catching the t-shirt, “Oh, and I’m keeping this.” 

As James retreated, Lily balled her fists into her eyes and screamed. 

* * *

Things had definitely deteriorated since that night up by the castle; all the way back to fifth year, in fact. All of their friends assumed the two of them had just had a typical Lily-James blowout after they had been left alone on the castle grounds because the following day they were back to name-calling and insults, relentless teasing and petty pranks.

Not one of their friends would have guessed that it was all due to a kiss. 

This, of course, was because both Lily and James refused to admit this themselves. The second Lily had walked away, it seemed that the both of them had come to some sort of mutual understanding that it had never happened. See, neither of them knew how to move forward from there. James was afraid of scaring off Lily for good, and it seemed that Lily was afraid of everything. 

So, naturally, they moved backwards. 

However, the rest of the young witches and wizards had managed to stay firmly rooted in their twenties, despite their two friends’ return to adolescence and, after nearly three weeks, had become much less amused at their antics. 

“…And when I opened my eyes, Davies was gone. What was that all about?” Lily complained to Benjy and Mary, swirling her rum and coke in her glass morosely at the bar. “Collin Fucking Davies,” she continued bitterly, “Do you even understand how beautiful of a specimen he is?”

“Mmm, he was definitely talked about in my dorm more than once,” Mary mused with a devilish grin before she turned to refill a patron’s glass. 

“And what was James talking about, with scores? Do they still have some dumb Quidditch rivalry?” Lily wondered before laying her head down on the bar and groaning, “I am tired, I am stressed, and I am sexually frustrated. Why can’t anything go right for me?” 

Benjy rubbed her back soothingly, “Shush, Red, I’m sure I can find someone I can pay off to get you laid.” 

That, at least, made her laugh. She sat up and swatted him on the shoulder. 

“Poor Davies,” Mary said, finally making her way back to the pair, “He must have nearly pissed his pants, getting caught by James like that.” 

“Oh, thanks, Mary,” Lily snorted, downing her drink before standing up, “I didn’t realize it was such an embarrassment to be seen snogging me.” 

“Oh sit down, I didn’t mean it like that,” Mary replied, pursing her lips in distate. Lily could tell that she had something more to say, but was unsure whether she wanted to open that particular can of worms. 

“Oi, whatever it is you want to say, spit it out,” Lily snapped at the small blonde, “I’m a big girl, yeah, I’m sure I can handle it.” 

“Could’ve fooled me,” Marlene said in an irritated voice as she took the empty seat next to her friend. She had a bandage wrapped around her head, protecting a wound she had acquired when a tunnel collapsed on her during a raid the other night. The Order had received a tip-off about some cursed objects that a bunch of Death Eaters and Voldemort supporters were going to sell into Muggle marketplaces, the kind that would set off a chain reaction of terror throughout the island. The Order had been successful in stopping them, thank Merlin, no casualties, but there had been a lot of injuries so the Hospital Wing upstairs was all booked up. Moody was almost certain that some higher ups in St. Mungo’s had been turned, so the Order members who got hurt on missions came to Inverness or other safe houses for treatment instead. Otherwise, Voldemort’s supporters could seize their medical records and figure out pretty quickly who was in the secret organization. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Marlene,” Lily replied primly. The three others rolled their eyes. 

“You know exactly what I’m talking about, Lily, you and James have been acting like a pair of idiotic fifth years since that night. I know we were back by a castle and that may have brought about some Hogwarts nostalgia, but that’s not an excuse to behave like we are back at school. Honestly, you were always supposed to be the most mature out of us,” Marlene said in a disgruntled tone. 

“If I had known that being a prefect in school was going to saddle me with this great weight of responsibility and propriety for the rest of my life I would have run away from Hogwarts screaming,” the redhead complained bitterly. Sometimes it was just so unfair to be the responsible one; sometimes she wanted to just exist in a state of constant chaos, go wild, but she knew that too much depended on her, too many _people_ depended on her. 

“Oh whine, whine, whine,” Marlene replied, rolling her eyes at her friend, “You live to show all of us up, don’t deny it. So tell me, then, what’s keeping you in the gutter with the likes of us.” 

“Potter caught her snogging Collin Davies,” Benjy supplied, smiling arrogantly when Lily turned around to shoot him a glare. 

“He did _not_ ,” Marlene gasped, a gleeful look on her face, “Did he piss his pants?”

“That’s what I said,” Mary laughed with a conspiratorial grin. 

“And _I_ said that I don’t understand what is so fucking shameful about snogging me! I mean, I know I’m reasonably fit, I just don’t get it!” Lily cried, waving her hands around her head. 

“How did she never put this together?” Benjy asked the other two girls. 

“Brightest witch of our age, my arse,” Marlene sighed, blowing out her bangs. 

“You really ought to tell her, Marls, Hogwarts was one thing, it was all a bit silly then, but now…” Mary prompted. 

“Oi, stop talking like I’m not even here!” Lily protested, irritated. She felt like she was being treated like a child, which was infuriating. (She ignored the fact that her friends would just say they were treating her according to the age she was acting). 

“Okay, okay, Mary’s right, it’s not funny anymore,” Marlene said, turning to her redhead friend, “It was the lads. The Marauders, you know, James mostly but the rest of them went along with it of course. Put a kind of a ban on dating you, back at school.”

“An embargo on dicks, if you like,” Benjy interjected with a grin. 

“Scared the living daylights out of anyone that they heard fancied you, let alone those unfortunate blokes who had the balls to actually ask you out,” Marlene continued, “Ever wonder why you never got asked on a second date?” 

“Poor Fergus Birch,” Mary said sympathetically, “I think he still has little nubs on his head from the horns James gave him, it’s why he keeps his hair so long.” 

“You’re not serious,” Lily said flatly, looking back and forth between her friends, waiting for them to stop the charade, tell her it was all a joke. 

“Once we all graduated and James stopped sniffing around, blokes started thinking it was safe again to, you know, try and date you,” Marlene continued. 

“Hence why everyone is asking if Davies pissed himself,” Benjy finished for them, “Potter and Black are both full-blown Aurors now, they could probably kill him and make it look like an accident.” 

“But, no, they wouldn’t have done that,” Lily said, her brow furrowed. She looked at her friends, her face full of a kind of forced innocent confusion, “Why would they do that?”

“Well, you know how James was about you,” Marlene said, trying to console her friend, “A bit obsessed really, very territorial-” 

“And you knew? You knew all this time and never told me?” Lily said to her, “You watched me cry when Birch stopped talking to me, when Diggory never owled me back! And you just let it go on?” 

“C’mon, Lils, none of those blokes were good enough for you, we all knew it. And it was all a bit of a laugh-” 

“Well I’m not laughing!” Lily shouted, standing abruptly. A hush came over the pub for a moment at her sudden exclamation before the chatter continued on like normal. The redhead downed her drink in one gulp before turning on her heel and marching towards the wall that hid the staircase up to the apartments. She heard Benjy and Mary calling after her, while Marlene chased after her, cursing “Shit, shit, shit,” but the redhead ignored them.

She was so _angry_. Blood boiling, seeing red, and every other cliché, she was a fucking _mess_ because she had been hurt over and over again for _years_ and it’d been one big _joke_ just like she’d always been to James. She saw that now, she would never be anything other than a joke to him, nothing but a game for him to play when he got bored, and her eyes stung because that night up by the castle, for a moment she’d felt _worshipped_ , like she was the most beautiful girl in the world, but it had only been part of some big game James Potter had been playing with her because _that’s_ the type of bloke he was, who he had always been and who he apparently always would be. 

Lily burst through the door of the Hospital room where Peter and Remus (who had been on the raid with Marlene) were being held until they were officially released by Dorcas, James and Sirius lounging in chairs at their bedsides, chatting and laughing (and she wanted to spit fire because they were probably laughing at _her_ , she knew it).

“Was Davies not to your satisfaction?” asked James with his trademark arrogant grin as he watched her enter, standing up and putting his hands in his pockets casually, “Because if you need someone to finish you off, I’m sure I could-” 

In an instant Lily had crossed the room to him, and before he could finish his sentence she cut him off with a resounding SLAP! clear across his face. Marlene, who now stood in the doorway, covered her mouth as she emitted a loud gasped, and Sirius jumped to his feet. 

“For years,” Lily began, out of breath from her sprint off the stairs and the suffocating anger that had burrowed its way into her chest, “For _years_ I thought that just nobody wanted me. I knew I was pretty, I knew I was nice, I knew I was smart. But nobody wanted me, and I couldn’t figure it out. I just thought something was wrong with me. But it was _you_. It was you all along.” 

“Oh come off it Evans, that was years ago, and they were all wankers anyways,” James tried to wave it off, as if all of the insecurities that he had caused over the years were of no importance.

“Who are you to decide that? Who I should or should not date?” Lily snapped angrily, “And what about today? With Davies? And Trevor Boot the other week, I saw you talking to him! Are you why he never owled me back?” 

“Like I said, they’re all wankers,” the messy-haired wizard threw a cocky grin back at the other lads, despite their warning glances. 

“Yeah, Potter? Well how about you get your own life, and stop fucking around with mine!” she shouted, shoving him forcefully back. 

A glint of anger grew in his hazel eyes, and he bit back angrily, “Well sorry I don’t feel like watching you slagging around-” 

“Are you fucking joking right now?!” 

“You have a new guy around here every other week, it’s sickening-” 

“Just because it’s not _you_!” Lily shouted finally, her finger shoving into his panting chest. 

The room froze. 

“Oh yeah, it’s not me, it’ll never be me,” James replied, his voice eerily calm, “You made that abundantly clear, thanks.” 

“Good,” Lily breathed, “So stay away from me then, yeah?” She gestured at the other wizards in the room, “All of you, just stay the fuck away!” She stormed out of the room, pushing angrily past Marlene, who was still frozen in the doorway. She brushed away angry tears and slammed the door to her potions room closed, locking it firmly behind her. She sank down to the ground, burying her head in her arms and screamed. 

* * *

"Well fuck.”

Sirius was the first one to break the silence as the four Marauders and Marlene stood frozen, staring helplessly at each other. 

Remus let out a deep breath that he must have been holding in the whole time, “That’s an understatement.”

“Am I missing something?” Peter asked, “What the hell just happened?” 

“I might have told Lily about how you lot used to scare off the blokes in Hogwarts…” Marlene admitted guiltily. 

“And why in the world would you do that?” Sirius cried, while Peter opened and closed his mouth, at a loss for words. 

“Because she was feeling like shit about Davies ditching her after that sod barged in on them,” the brunette witch gestured angrily at James (it seemed she no longer felt so guilty), “And sure, going about like that during school was one thing but, dammit James, you’ve got to just let it go now! It’s not fair!” 

“Not fair?” James suddenly said, looking at her with a combination of fury and just utter brokenness, “Not fair? Do you know what’s not fair? It’s not fair that Lily kissed me, and it was the best fucking moment of my life, and now she barely even talks to me and pretends like it never even fucking happened!” 

The were several cries of “what?!” and a funny little squawk from Peter as they all took in what he had just said. 

“And I have no idea what to do now,” James sighed, sliding to the floor and leaning against the foot of Sirius’s bed. He felt like he’d just gotten hit in the chest, all of the wind knocked out of him. The second he had kissed Lily all those weeks ago he knew he’d moved too soon, that she was barely ready to be his friend let alone anything more. She didn’t trust him yet, and Lily was a guarded person, thick walls with archers and catapults kind of guarded. She needed time. But it was like that kissed had cursed him and he suddenly became impatient for it all, for all of her, and in his frustration he had sunk back into his default prat mode. And now this. He started tearing at his hair with his fists, the reality of what had just transpired finally sinking. Had he _really_ just said all that to Lily? Any trust that he had painstakingly built over the past couple of months was shot to hell. Suddenly, it felt like there was no air in the room, and he was struggling to breathe. He was well and truly fucked. 

“Fuck,” Sirius said again, seeming to read his best friend’s mind. 

“Well, surely there’s got to be _something_ he can do,” Remus said, glancing at Marlene who was still in the doorway 

“Don’t look at me,” Marlene said helplessly, “I mean, I’m one of her best friends, yeah, but even when you’re friends with Lily you never _really_ know what’s going on inside her head. And even if you did, there’s no way to change her mind once she’s made a decision. Not that I’ve found, at least.” 

“Okay, but explain to me, why is she so opposed to him?” Sirius asked, gesturing towards James (although he was hardly listening anymore, distracted by his inner monologue that was going somewhere along the lines of ‘ _oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck’_ ). “We were complete prats in school, yeah, but I thought things had been going pretty well?” 

“Lily is emotionally handicapped, I think,” Marlene explained sadly, “The people she’s gotten closest to, they’ve either died or abandoned her. Like I said, we’re all friends with her but even I’m not sure I properly know her. And James is, you know, kind of an all or nothing person. And I think she’s afraid of that.” 

“So what do we do?” Peter asked hopefully; in his experience, whenever a problem had been spelled out to his friends, they could always find an answer. 

“I’m not sure there’s anything _to_ do, Pete,” Remus intoned sadly, “We can’t force her into loving James or anything.” 

“Plus he kind of fucked up any chance he _did_ have after that stunt he just pulled,” Marlene pointed out uncharitably. James saw them all share a look, confirming that she was right, and he hung his head. One of Lily’s greatest skills was her ability to hold a grudge until the end of time. 

“So that’s it?” Peter asked.

“Yeah,” James said quietly, hopelessly, “That’s it.”

* * *

 There was a knocking at the door.

“Hello?” Benjy called through the thick oak, “I know you’re in there, Red.” 

“I don’t want to talk about it, Benjy,” Lily called back in a monotone, not even bothering to look at the door. 

“I don’t care,” the wizard called back, unmoved, “We have a lot more important things to talk about than that jackass friend of yours.” 

Lily breathed a deep sigh. She had been locked in her potions all afternoon, and she knew she would have to come out and face them all eventually. Benjy would be a good start. With a flick of her wand, the latch came undone and the door swung open.

The American wizard raised his eyebrows when he saw the mess she had made. Smashed pieces of pottery lay scattered around the room, forming pools of debris on the floor. In answer to his questioning look, Lily conjured a plate with her wand before throwing it against the brick wall. She closed her eyes and a small, contented smile graced her lips as she heard it shatter. “I see someone’s got some angst going,” Benjy chuckled, quirking a grin. 

She shot him a stern look, “I’ve placed a taboo on _his_ name, so if you don’t want to have hooves instead of hands for the foreseeable future I would stick to your promise and not mention it.” 

Benjy raised his hands in surrender, “I got it, I got it, no boy talk.”

“And anyways, not all of this,” she gestured at the surrounding mess, “Is about him. It’s that spell I’ve been working on, the new ward, yeah? I can’t get it anchored right. And it’s driving me _crazy_.” She punctuated the last word by conjuring another plate, only to watch it shatter into a thousand pieces. 

“And is that helping?” the blonde wizard asked with another chuckle. 

“Actually, yes,” she grinned back, “C’mon, give it a go.” She patted the ground next to him, and he took a seat. Using his own thick hornbeam wand, he conjured a dainty lilac-patterned china plate. He tossed it like a Frisbee against the wall, and it make a wonderful tinkling sound as it was smashed apart. 

“Oh wow,” he said wide a face-splitting grin, “ _That_ felt good.”

“Right?!” Lily crowed, smiling as she send another plate crashing against the wall, “When I was younger, and I would just get _so angry_ over something Petunia had said, I would lay in bed and just imagine taking my little dolphin figures or my piggy bank and smashing them against the ground. Something about smashing things has always just seemed so cathartic. And now that I’m a witch,” she flicked her wand again, this time causing all of the fragments to piece back together and zoom towards them until a tidy stack on plates were by her side, “Clean up is nothing to worry about.” 

“Smashing,” Benjy replied appreciatively, making Lily elbow him in retaliation for the painful pun. “So tell me about that spell, then,” he continued, nudging her back. 

The redhead let out a frustrated groan, “Okay, so. You know my ward. I love my ward. It’s a beautiful ward. But, I don’t think it’s strong enough if it comes under attack. It’s clever, yes, but not _strong_.” Benjy nodded along, and she continued, “So, in the books you brought me back from Africa they talk about how the strongest spells have to be anchored in a person, in the heart or soul or whatever you want to call it. Like, take the patronus charm. It’s one of the most powerful charms out there, but you have to build it off of a happy memory. That’s the anchor: the love, the joy, whatever you feel in that memory, that’s what gives the spell such crazy power. It’s like building a house, you have to build that strong foundation. Then there’s the Unforgivables. Only a person who has this tremendous hate in their heart can cast it, otherwise the incantation itself is useless. This is more like a wrecking ball: in order to swing and destroy a building, it has to be heavily anchored on the ground.” 

“Okay, yeah, I can see that. Good use of metaphor, by the way,” he joked. 

“Sorry, I’ve been in my head a bit too much. It’s not good for me, I start monologuing,” Lily laughed, leaning her head on her friend’s shoulder, “So anyways, that’s what makes a spell strong, you have to have an anchor. The only problem is I can’t figure out how to anchor my ward. I mean, I know that love would be the most powerful to use, but that’s kind of an abstract concept, yeah? I just don’t even know where to start.” Suddenly she sat up like a shot, slapping Benjy excitedly on the shoulder, “Oh my gosh, Benjy, I wonder if I could make the ward potion-based, so people could be protected wherever they went? Give it a physical anchor! Has that ever been done before?” 

“Lily, you noble poetic land mermaid, you are a _genius_ ,” Benjy cried enthusiastically. She knew he was being melodramatic to make her laugh, but she was swept up in the compliment anyways. 

“That doesn’t help the anchor issue, though,” she sighed, placing her chin on her first as she stared at the potions materials strewn about the room thoughtfully, “I should probably do some more research on it.” 

Benjy raised his eyebrows at her when she didn’t make a move to leave. “You know, as much as I would like to see you try, you really can’t live in this room.” 

Lily groaned, “I bet I could make it work. I have plenty of food squirreled away in here, and I can always conjure water.” 

“Yes, Lily, but there’s no _atmosphere_ ,” he whined with a dramatic sweep of his arm. 

“I suppose concrete walls are a big dungeon-y, and that is _so_ seventeenth century,” she sighed morosely. “It’s just, what if I see him? Or any of his friends? Or any other human being, for that matter?” 

Benjy pulled her into his arms and stood up, holding her like a damsel in distress while he pumped one fist into the air, “I swear to protect you with my life! You will never have to talk to anyone other than me ever again!” 

Lily giggled into his chest, “Care to make an Unbreakable Vow, then?”

“Don’t ruin this for me, Red, I’m trying to be chivalrous,” he stage-whispered to her, “It’s a bit unrealistic for a barmaid to never speak to a human being again.” 

She sighed dramatically once again, “I suppose you’re right. You can make it up to me by carrying me around like this until my shift, then. It’s nice, I feel like a little baby, all swaddled and such.” 

“As you wish, m’lady. Are we off then?” She nodded, and he pumped his fist into the air once again, “To the library!” 

“To the library!” Lily shouted as she raised her fist as well, laughing loudly as he raced out of the, the redhead bumping along in his arms as they went.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Told you this one would be a quick update! I want to, as always, thank everyone who has read, reviewed, and left kudos, it means so much to me! This chapter is very James-centered, so I hope you like seeing some character development from him, and some of his point of view! Let me know what you think! Oh, also, I started creating moodboards for this story and I just posted the one for Chapter One! If you want to take a look my tumblr is a-collection-of-nonsense.

8.

  

“It’s okay, love, you’re safe now. The bad men are all gone, it’s over.”

James was kneeling in front of a trembling girl, no more than five, while the remains of her house smoldered behind her. Her blond hair was pulled into two pigtails, and she wore a pink nightgown covered in teddy bears that was long enough to brush the tops of her bare feet. In her arms she clutched a charcoal grey kitten, whose wide yellows eyes glared at him suspiciously. 

James himself was covered in what felt like an inch of soot, souvenirs of the battle that had taken place amongst the ruins of the Muggle neighborhood in a tiny town called Inkpen earlier that evening. A group of masked Death Eaters had stormed the neighborhood, torturing and killing the Muggles just as they were heading for bed, and burning nearly the whole town down. James and the rest of the Aurors on his team had been called in, alerted by a Squib who lived nearby and recognized the Dark Mark that had been cast by a trigger-happy wizard, and had been able to fight off the Death Eaters. They had only managed to capture one of the psycopaths; the other five disapparated once the battle started getting heavy. It seemed that a random Muggle neighborhood was not the hill they wanted to die on, not that James was surprised. 

They had not been able to save the Muggle town, though, it was already lost by the time he had arrived. The Aurors had no idea how many were dead; it was impossible to tell amongst the charred ruins, all that remained of the town. All they did know was that there was only one survivor. 

“Darling, I’m going to need you to tell me what happened here tonight. Do you think you could do that?” 

James was the one who had found her as he searched the forest surrounding the neighborhood for any escaped Death Eaters. She was hidden amongst the branches of one of the trees, and had looked at him with so much fear in her eyes, like she fully believed that she was about to die, that he was there to kill her, that James had almost been sick. He hoped to never have someone look at him that way again. 

“Love, can you hear me? Are you hurt? Do you need to see a Healer?” 

He wasn’t even sure she knew what a Healer was; he couldn’t remember what they called them in the Muggle world. He sighed, and went to stand to go find a superior, someone who could talk to the petrified child. He was at a complete loss for what to do, having hardly ever been around other children when _he_ was a child, let alone as an adult. And, as always, he was shit at comforting people. It was moments like these that he just felt so damn useless.

It seemed, though, that when he had kneeled down he had accidentally stepped on his robe because when he tried to stand up he ended up careening backwards and landing solidly on his arse. 

There was a giggle. 

James whipped his head up at the noise, and saw that the little girl had a ghost of a smile on her lips. Suddenly he got an idea. 

“I’m a bit of a klutz,” he told the little girl, sharing a small smile, “Happens to me all the time. One time, my mum was having all these ladies from the neighborhood over for tea. She got me all dressed up in this stuffy set of ro – er, suit, and I forgot to lie the laces on my new dress shoes and when I walked in the room I tripped, right into the tea set. Spilled tea all over all of her friends, and broke half of the tea set.” James looked up at the little girl again. She wasn’t smiling anymore, but her eyes weren’t as owlish either, and she seemed to be taking in what he said for the first time that night. 

“I like your kitten,” James continued, “I have a dog, his name is Padfoot. Now _he_ is a troublemaker. Used to eat my homework all the time in school. None of my teachers ever believed me, though, so I would always get detention for it. We used to go on adventures all the time, in a forest just like that one over there. I like climbing trees, too, but I don’t think I’m as good at it as you are. Do you want to see a picture of my dog?” 

The little girl nodded, the first response he had gotten from her all evening. She took a seat next to him, her nightgown pooling around her on the damp ground. Neither of them minded, though. James tapped the picture he had in his wallet of him and Sirius (in his Animagus form, of course) with his wand discretely, freezing the frame, before he showed it to the girl. She touched it with her pointer finger and traced the outline of the scruffy black dog. 

James continued talking to the girl, telling her silly stories from his childhood until she was comfortably leaning against him, the kitten sleeping quietly in her arms. “What’s your cat’s name?” he asked her after awhile, hardly expecting an answer back. 

He was surprised when she replied, “Mittens.” 

He smiled at the name; only a five year old girl would name a cat Mittens. It was perfect. “You were so brave, you know, running all the way to the forest and climbing that tree just to save Mittens. I think I would have been way too scared to do that all by myself.” 

“Mummy and Daddy told me I had to,” the little girl said in a quiet voice. 

“Well, your Mummy and Daddy were very smart,” James replied, wincing a bit at having to use the past tense, “Did they tell you to run when they saw the fire?” 

She nodded, “Our house is the last one on the block. They woke me up and told me there were bad men, and that I had to run to the woods with Mittens.” She sniffled a bit, and James put his arm around her comfortingly. “They said they would come and get me later, that I was not ‘posed to come out until I saw them. They said they were going to fight the bad men.”

“Did you see the bad men?” he asked. 

“They were wearing black robes, kinda like you, and had scary masks. And they were waving sticks. Like wands.” She looked at him suddenly, her eyes startling keen, “They were wizards, weren’t they? Evil wizards like in the fairytales Mummy reads?” 

James considered lying to her, but didn’t see the point. They would have to obliviate her, anyways, but for some reason he felt like if he told her the truth it mind give her a sense of peace, deep down, that she could carry with her. So he told her. 

“Yes. They were bad wizards, evil wizards, and they did bad, evil things. But you know what?” He took out his wand, and for a second she scooted away fearfully. “It’s okay, love, I’m not going to hurt you. You see, I’m a good wizard. Everyone here is a good wizard, and we are here to fight all of the bad wizards so that no one ever gets hurt again. _I_ will fight the bad wizards so that _you_ will never get hurt again. Okay?” 

The little girl nodded, lip quivering, but she did not cry. He was suddenly reminded of Lily, how she, too, was so stubbornly brave in the face of the most scary, horrible things imaginable. He realized that this must have been exactly how Lily looked when she found out about her parents’ death. He felt unimaginably sad, and put his arm around the girl once more. “Just like in _The Wizard of Oz_ , right?” she asked in a soft voice. He nodded, although he had never heard of Oz before, or met any wizards from there. He made a mental note to ask Lily later, if she ever decided to talk to him again of course. 

Neither of them said anything for awhile, and James realized that the little girl had fallen asleep against him. Moving very slowly, so as not to wake her, he began to stand up, lifting her up and settling her onto one hip so that her head lolled against his shoulder. He placed the slumbering kitten in one of the deep pockets of his robe. With his lit wand as his guide, he made his way over to the ruins of what she had said used to be her house. He kicked through the rubble, trying to find anything salvageable for her to take with her, wherever she ended up going. He realized she was an orphan now, like him, like so many of his friends. Too many. 

He found a charred stuffed lamb in the burnt remains of what might have been the little girl’s dresser. He was able to repair most of the damage through some spellwork, and placed a small protection spell on it before tucking it into his other pocket. Under a pile of bricks, which might have been the former fireplace of the house, he found a smoky photo of the little girl and her parents in a smashed up frame. He cleared the broken glass away and deposited the photograph in his pocket for her, as well. 

After another ten minutes of fruitless searching through the rubble, James made his way over to his Auror unit. As he got closer, he realized that several people from the Muggle Liasion Offices were there, as well as several strangers in odd uniforms that he realized must be Muggle law enforcement and other officials. “There she is,” a spindly woman with greying hair and half-moon spectacles on a beaded chain cried as James approached, “Kerigan Bothwell, correct?” 

“Er, yeah,” James said awkwardly. He realized he had never asked the little girl her name. It seemed, though, that everyone there knew who the girl was (both her name and her status as the only one who had lived).

“She’s to come with me,” the woman said, reaching her arms out for the sleeping girl, “She had no known relatives, so she is off to the orphanage in Newbury. It seems she has no belongings to collect, so we’ll be off right away. Oh, and I was told she was found holding a cat. It will have to stay here, no pets allowed.” 

“One moment, Madam Eltrice,” one of the Ministry officials cut in. James was relieved as he ushered them aside. For them to just pull that girl away so suddenly, for her to leave such a horror to go straight into a den of strangers, just seemed too cruel for words. “Before she goes, I’ll have to obliviate her,” the Ministry official said in an offhand tone as soon as they were far enough away, as if he was talking about the weather, not the end of this little girl’s world. James wanted to punch him, wanted to loudly rant and rage against the world and all of its injustices. Instead, he stopped the other wizard as he raised his arm. 

“No!” he cried, trying to think quickly, “Er, how about I do it? I need some extra practice, and she’s just a little girl, right? No big deal if I mess up.” He felt his skin get hot when the Ministry wizard nodded, as if James’s twisted logic made all the sense in the world, and was relieved when the man walked away. 

James managed to wrangle off his cloak so he could set the sleeping girl upon it before he began his spellwork. He was incredibly relieved that she was asleep; he was afraid that his wand would falter if she was staring away him with those big, terrified eyes. Instead he was able to raise his hand and quietly cast the spell. He suddenly felt like he had entered a cloud: around him, the world had gone a misty grey, shrouding the rest of the world from view. Swirls of color danced around him, and as he touched them with his wand they enlarged into memories, playing like a screen across the mist. 

James went to work.

He cast this spell with more care than he had put into any before. He weaved a story with her memories of a terrible fire that was set by some very bad men, and of a mother and father who loved her so very much they sent her running into the forest while they faced down the bad men, sacrificing their lives to save hers. He crafted her memories so that she would know they were heroes, would know she was loved, would know she was safe (even though that last one was a lie). And lastly, he told a story of a young man with messy hair and crooked glasses who found her in the woods, who had fallen on his backside when he had tried to ask her what happened, who had told her that there were powerful people out there fighting the bad men, and who would take care of her kitten when she had to go away to the orphanage. 

With a sweep of his wand the spell was ended and the mist around him cleared. He kneeled once again next to the little girl, this time gently shaking her awake. “Kerigan, love, I need you to wake up,” he whispered until she groggily looked up at him. She stood up and followed him, grabbing his hand when they came upon the group of officials once again. “Kerigan,” he said, bending down so that he was at the same level as her and pointing to the spindly woman, “This lady is going to take care of you now. She’s going to take you to a new home. You are going to make so many new friends, you’re going to love it. Okay?” She nodded at him, and he could see she was once again fighting back tears. Madam Eltrice took the little girl’s hand from him, and started leading her towards a car that was parked down the road. As James stood, he felt something shift in his pocket. “Oh wait!” he called, jogging after them. He pulled out the photograph and the stuffed lamb, “I was able to save these from your house. Don’t forget that your Mummy and Daddy loved you very much okay? Never forget that.” The little girl looked at the things James had presented her with reverence before she launched herself into James’s arms. He could feel her little body shaking, and knew that she had finally started to cry. He held her for a moment longer, glaring at the spindly woman’s impatient stare, before letting the little girl go. He stood in the same spot as she walked away and watched her get into the little car, waving until the little car had driven out of sight. 

Exhaustedly, he apparated straight back to his flat. The paperwork could wait until morning. 

* * *

The flat was empty when James got home. 

At first he was just relieved that he wouldn’t have to explain to anyone where he had come from, what had just transpired. He wasn’t sure he had the words to do so, anyways. 

Without the lads (and the chaos that inevitably accompanied them) in the flat, it seemed so cavernous, so empty. They didn’t have much furniture in the kitchen/living room area, just a card table and a few folding chairs to eat at. They had a pretty nice kitchen, but none of them really knew how to use all of the Muggle cooking contraptions so they mostly lived off of take-out (cartons of the stuff littered the floor, Sirius had forgotten to take out the trash again). In the center of the living room they had a massive denim sofa that was pretty much the comfiest thing James had ever sat on, even better than the Gryffindor armchairs. He still couldn’t believe that the family down the hall had wanted to throw it away, you barely noticed the stains (the lads had bought it from them for a couple of pounds, quite a steal in their opinion). The walls were mostly a creamy plaster, with brick peaking through where the paint had chipped away. The stretch of wall surrounding the tumbling fireplace was covered with notes written in marker, everything from grocery lists to floo messages to a running list of the victors of their favorite drinking game, Merlin’s Pants. (They had started out trying to write all of these notes on parchment but they kept on getting lost or thrown away, and a little vandalism always did them some good.)

James passed straight through the shared living space, throwing his briefcase in the general direction of the couch as he made a beeline for his room. Not stopping even to shed his robes, James crawled into his bed, a massive king-sized mahogany bedframe that looked completely out of place in their incredibly urban London apartment (his bedroom was really the only one in the house that had some decent furniture). James had brought all of his antique, aristocratic furniture from his old room at Potter Manor when he moved to London (partly because it made the place feel more like home but mostly because he had no desire to go furniture shopping). Wriggling under his ornate damask comforter, he pulled Mittens out of his pocket and settled her onto one of his pillows to sleep, his own head falling onto the other. 

To James’s dismay, though, no matter how he twisted and turned he could not manage to fall asleep. The events of the night kept replaying themselves; the battle, yes, but mostly that poor little girl. Sometimes he forgot that this wasn’t just another adventure that he and the rest of the Marauders had set out on for some eternal glory. It wasn’t even one of those dramatic showdowns they used to have with the Slytherins in Hogwarts, all cat-calling and petty revenge. 

This was a war. 

Every day there were new deaths reported, senseless deaths, too many of them for James to even process. Muggles and innocent bystanders that had been caught up in a battle that many of them didn’t even know existed ended up splashed on the front page of the Prophet. Overnight they ceased to be people, became a part of the endless list of depressing statistics being reported. 

And then there were those who survived. They may have the even worse lot because they had to carry the weight of those deaths, of the guilt that they had made it out alive while so many hadn’t. The guilt and the loneliness that comes of being left behind. 

And James wasn’t some hero that was going to singlehandedly save the day. 

In the end, James decided that the only thing that was going to calm his nerves, put his brain on pause for a moment, was a drink. A good, _strong_ drink. But it was a bit pathetic to sad-drink on your own (they told Remus this often enough), and he didn’t feel like waiting around until one of the Marauders showed up (because who knew when that might be). So, instead, he went to the pub. 

It wasn’t until he was knocking on the polished oak door that he realized what a bad idea it was. At first he just felt stupid because it was past one in the morning and _of course_ the pub wouldn’t be open. And then, to his surprise, someone heard his knock and the door was opening and he saw a flash of red and he remembered that it was Lily’s shift and she wasn’t speaking to him and _Merlin how could he be so stupid_. 

But for some reason James’s feet refused to move (the weight of his emotional exhaustion seemed to tie him down) and he found himself blurting out, “I’m not James Potter.” The unexpected declaration resonated in his chest as truth. “I just need to not be James Potter for a little while, yeah? Also, I r _eally_ need a drink.” She was staring blankly at him, and he wondered for a moment if she had even heard him. His palms were sweating nervously but he was just _so tired_ and for some reason he felt like this was the place to be, this was where he would be able to bottle things up (just for a little bit, he wasn’t the type to hold things in forever). Lily still hadn’t responded to him, was just staring, so he prompted hesitantly, “So can I come in?” 

Lily was wary now, like she wasn’t quite sure whether to trust him or not ( _for Merlin’s sake,_ James thought bitterly, _it’s not like I’m some Death Eater about to burn the place down_ ) but something about what he had said coupled with the soot that still dusted his robes and messy hair seemed to make her relent. Wordlessly she opened the door farther, stepping aside to let him in. The tables, chairs and barstools in the pub were levitating a foot above the ground while a mop wound its way around the room, scrubbing the floors in a surprisingly graceful way. Lily waved her wand to set one of the barstools back on the ground for James. He took a seat while she walked around the bar and began to polish a glass. 

“What can I get you, then?” she asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence that had settled around them like a suffocating fog. 

“Um, just a firewhiskey, I guess, neat,” James replied. 

The redheaded witch turned her head to the side as she surveyed him thoughtfully. “Y’know, that’s a James Potter drink. I’m going to make you an old fashioned. Bill seems like an old fashioned kind of guy.” She had a small smirk on her petal lips, and a glint in her eye (like a little kid waiting to tell the punch line of a joke).

James decided to bite. “What’s an old fashioned? And who’s Bill?” 

“It’s good, just trust me. Bill would trust me.”

“And I ask again, who’s Bill?” Sometimes, in all of his nauseatingly romantic daydreams, he forgot that Lily had _personality_. She was actually wonderfully strange sometimes. He felt the corners of his lips involuntarily turn up into the beginnings of a grin. 

“You’re not James Potter tonight, yeah, but I still need to be able to call you something,” Lily explained, the mischievous smirk still on her face. 

“And you chose Bill? Out of all of the names in the world, Bill?” James said flatly, outraged (even though he was relieved, felt like hugging her, because she was going to go along with it, would press pause on being absolutely pissed at him because she knew he needed it and _Merlin_ she was wonderful). 

“I mean, I could call you Elvendork instead if you want. It’s unisex, it could work,” she smirked back (dammit, if that smirk wasn’t the sexiest thing on this entire planet, why was it that he found her the most attractive when she was mocking him? James thought that he must be a masochist, it was the only thing that made sense). 

“No, no, Bill’s fine. Bill’s great. Beautiful name, I’ve always said,” he replied quickly. Lily gave him a small smile as she passed him the drink she had been mixing. “Mmm, this is good!” James exclaimed after he took his first sip, “I was right to have trusted you.” 

“I am a genius, it’s true,” Lily agreed airily, making him grin all the more, “Now what brings you in so late, Bill?” 

“Well I’m a male escort, you see, in pretty high demand as you might guess from my boyish good looks and winning smile, and I have just been hounded after all night and needed some refuge from the ladies.” 

Lily laughed, “Is that so? Should have gone with Elvendork, then, much more exotic.” 

“Oh shut it. And yes, that is my unfortunate predicament, so as long as you don’t try and hit on me I should be safe,” he replied with a long-suffering sigh. 

“On my honor, I promise I will resist from hitting on you,” she said with a straight face, raising her right hand as she pledged to him (he was a bit disappointed by how easily she promised), “Consider this your fortress.” 

James toasted to her as she busied herself behind the bar again, rearranging all of the liquor bottles and making sure all of them were fully stocked. Another heavy, uncomfortable silence settled onto them as Lily kept herself busy while James took long sips of his drink. The silence buzzed around him, as distracting as if a fly was buzzing around his head. It began to slowly drive him crazy (and he knew it was driving her crazy too, she had cleaned the same glass three times). 

Eventually he broke. “Okay, Evans, there’s got o be _something_ we can talk about,” he implored desperately (he wanted out of his head and she had always been the best distraction in the world, he had plenty of grades from Hogwarts to prove it). 

“Well, I assume you don’t want to talk about work or the war,” Lily intoned, “ And I’m not too keen about talking about Hogwarts or our friends from there at the moment. So what else is there?” 

He paused for a moment. It was a bit shocking to hear your entire world neatly packed away into four little boxes. It made his world feel quite small. But he was hit by a sudden inspiration, “What’s your favorite flavor of ice cream?”

“What?” Lily asked, caught off guard by the random question. 

“You heard me. Neither of us wants to talk about anything ‘important’,” he punctuated the last word with air quotes, “So let’s talk about all of the unimportant things out there. That should fill some time. I’ll start: mine is sticky toffee pudding. Best flavor at Fortescue’s by far, and I’m ready to fight anyone that disagrees.” 

“My favorite flavor’s not from Fortescue’s, so we can avoid fist-cuffs for now,” Lily nodded mock-seriously (she was going along with this surprisingly easily, but he supposed she must be bored out of her mind, stuck alone on watch. James knew he would be). “Mine is not really a flavor, per se. At this ice cream parlor near my old Muggle primary school, they used to let you choose whatever flavors you wanted and would mix them with whatever toppings you chose. I had it down to an art: half chocolate, half vanilla, chocolate chip cookie dough, peanut butter cookie dough, and brownie crumbs. It was _epic_.” 

“Wow, Evans, I never knew you were such a connoisseur of ice cream. Impressive,” he grinned (and he let this fact about her take the place of that headline from yesterday that kept ringing in his head and he felt one pebble of the mountain that had settled on his shoulders slip away), “Okay, your question.” 

“Hmm…” the redhead pondered, placing her chin in her hand as she considered, chewing on her lip thoughtfully (this made them even pinker and things got fuzzy for in his head for a moment), “If you could travel anywhere, where would you go?” 

“Antarctica,” James said automatically, “It’s the only continent I haven’t been to.” Lily raised her eyebrows. “My family, we traveled a lot over the hols. Now you,” he prompted, not wanting to linger over the topic of his parents. He had been through a hurricane of emotions that day and just wasn’t equipped to deal with the bittersweet feeling that came with any talk of them. She took the hint, which was a relief (and James was reminded of how well she took care of her friends, his friends, Merlin, anyone she came into contact with). 

“Anywhere that is _warm_ and has a _beach_ ,” Lily sighed dreamily, “The Caribbean maybe? Somewhere in South America? Hawaii, even, I don’t care. Just somewhere tropical.” 

“I thought gingers tended to stay away from beaches?” James asked. “You know, ‘the light, it _burns!_ ’” he cried, cringing dramatically. 

“Typically yes, but _this_ ginger has never been out of Europe and as much as I love it here, I just want something _different_ , you know?” 

James nodded in understanding before continuing, “What’s your favorite animal?” 

“Oh, a deer, definitely,” Lily replied automatically. James knew his eyes were bugging out. _Did she know?_ he wondered frantically, _Is she just messing with me?_ If so, that was seriously not cool. But if not…(it was a sign and he was already hook line and sinker). 

But Lily was looking at him affronted, challenging him to make fun of her (as if someone had made fun of her for it before), “I know it’s a weird choice, I’ve just always had a thing for them, okay? I used to see them in the park by my old house all the time, just thought they looked so, er, majestic.” She glared at James, who couldn’t stop himself from laughing at the irony of it (and his amazement that she was perfect, who had deer as their favorite animal?) even though he knew it was winding her up. “Oh shove off. Here I am baring my soul and all you do is laugh. Not building much trust here, are you?” 

“Oh it’s not you, Evans,” he tried to reassure her (adopting an easy tone even though he felt like turning cartwheels), “It’s an inside joke with me and the lads, that’s all.” 

She squinted at him suspiciously, but it seemed she decided to let it go, to his relief. “Alright, then, what’s yours?”

“Oh that’s easy,” James smirked, “Werewolves.” 

Lily rolled her eyes, but she was chuckling too. “Fair enough. If you could break into anywhere on the planet, where would you go?” At James’s surprised look, she snapped, “I’ve got _layers_ , Pott – er – Bill.” 

“After knowing you for nearly a decade, Evans, you still manage to surprise me.” (And truer words were never said.) 

“Eugh, don’t say that,” Lily groaned, “That makes me feel so _old_. Just answer the question, prat.” 

“No need for name calling,” James tutted, “And I _have_ to say Gringotts. I mean, _anything_ could be down there, probably tons of really amazing and ancient magical artifacts. And I’ve heard they keep dragons down there as guards. Can you imagine? I’ve never seen a dragon before.” 

“That does seem the most organic way for you to meet a dragon,” Lily chuckled, “In the middle of some shenanigan.”

“I don’t know what you mean by _shenanigans_ ,” James replied in an affronted tone, “I’ve never pulled a shenanigan in my life.” Lily snorted, and he stuck his tongue out at her. “Anyways, I am _dying_ to hear your answer. C’mon, don’t keep me in suspense here.” 

“Well, mine would be the castle.” 

“That castle?” James asked, pointing in the general direction of the castle on the hill. Lily nodded in confirmation. “But why? I mean, can’t you just go on a tour or something? Castles usually offer those, don’t they?” 

“Usually, yes,” the redhead replied, “But for some reason Inverness Castle is closed to the public. I’ve lived next to it for nearly two years, look at it every day when I close the pub, and have explored the grounds over a dozen times but I still haven’t set foot inside the castle itself. It kills me.” She paused for a moment, looking as though she was deciding whether she wanted to share more or not, before continuing, “And there’s the whole nerd aspect of it for me, too. There’s a great Muggle poet and playwright, Shakespeare, right? And he wrote this amazing play called Macebth and-” 

“Ooh, ooh, I’ve heard of him!” James called excitedly, raising his hand in the air like a student (pathetic that he was always so ready to brag to her but tonight he didn’t care), “That’s the one with the three witches, right?” 

Lily shot him a shocked look, “How do _you_ know about Macbeth?” 

“Muggle Studies,” he grinned proudly, “We had to write a whole essay on the misrepresentation of wizards and witches in Muggle literature, that was one of our sources.” 

Lily scoffed under her breath something that sounded a lot like _ethnocentrism_ , but he couldn’t totally tell and was distracted when she continued, “Yes, it’s the one with the three witches. I could probably talk your ear off about it for the next hour, so I’ll just leave it at the for now, but it’s just an _amazing_ piece of literature, has so much to say about power, and the madness that comes with it. But anyways, the castle is where they think the real Macbeth was from, and my inner nerd quivers a bit thinking about it.”

“Well then, why haven’t you just, you know, broken into it already?” he asked, “I’m sure it would be simple enough to get past a Muggle security system.” 

Lily snorted, “Not all of us grew up in detention. In my experience rules are usually created for a reason; that’s why I tend to not break them.” 

“Bullshit, you’re just being chicken.” 

The redhead rolled her eyes, “I’m not going to be goaded into breaking the law. I’m just curious, and now you know. Next question.” 

“Hmm… what’s the form of your patronus?” 

“Oh, um, I don’t know.” Her eyes were downcast and she suddenly started determinedly scrubbing a stain on the bar. 

“C’mon, Evans, this is an easy one. What’s the deal?” he asked, his curiosity only growing from her evasiveness. 

“No, really, I’ve never cast the patronus charm,” she admitted reluctantly, “When we were taught it in seventh year, well, it was right after my parents had died. I wasn’t able to come up with any happy memories that didn’t just make me even sadder than before so I was never able to cast it. And the whole thing rather hurt my pride so I never tried it again. Hurt me a bit on the N.E.W.T.S. though.” James was shocked into silence for a moment. He thought back to seventh year. How could he not notice that she never succeeded in casting the patronus? He supposed it was a foregone conclusion in his mind at the time that she must have been the first one to successfully cast it (as she always was a Charms progidy), and he was far too distracted by his own blinding success at the time. 

“Once again, Evans, absolutely pathetic answer. You _have_ to give it another go, for your safety if nothing else! C’mon then,” he prompted, waving his arms, “Give it a go.” 

“Just leave it, okay?” she said sharply, giving him a hard stare until he nodded. “Okay then, what’s your patronus?” 

“It’s a stag,” James replied with an antagonizingly sweet smile. 

“Oh, come off it,” Lily scoffed, “You’re just saying that because I told you I have a deer thing. What’s it really?” 

“I swear that it’s true,” James laughed while she glared suspiciously at him. He suddenly felt a rustling in his pocket, and jumped halfway out of his seat before he remembered that he had placed the sleeping kitten from the fire in his robe pocket before he had apparated away (he didn’t fancy his mates coming home to a random kitten, particularly Sirius who was definitely a dog person, ha). He pulled the kitten from his pocket and plopped it on the bar counter, where it gave a wide yawn and blinked sleepily at the witch and wizard who were watching him.

“Um, James, where did that cat come from?” Lily asked dubiously, green eyes shockingly wide.

“My pocket?” he replied innocently. 

“Is that some sort of wizard joke? Like pulling a rabbit out of a hat?” she asked, still suspicious. 

James noticed for the first time that she assumed at first glance that everything he said was a joke at her expense, which made him a bit confused and uncomfortable. “Not that I know of,” he replied evenly. 

This seemed to be enough for the witch because she immediately scooped up the kitten in her arms, “What’s her name? Or is it a boy?” she asked, scratching it behind the ears. 

“It’s a girl. At least, I think so?” 

Lily checked to confirm, “Lucky you, it’s a girl! Name?” 

“It’s, uh, Mittens,” James replied, abashed. He supposed he had the power now, as the kitten’s new owner, to rename her but he immediately decided that would be disloyal to that poor little girl.

“Mittens? Who names a cat Mittens?” she laughed, making funny faces at the kitten as it batted at the hand that petted it.

“Says the girl who made me chose between Bill and Elvendork,” he shot back, “And it was a five year old girl, so rein in that judgment, missy.”

“He thinks he’s so intimidating,” the redhead cooed to the kitten as she stroked its back, causing it to purr, “I know, as if anyone with that hair could be intimidating. You’re so right, Mittens, it’s absolutely ridiculous.” 

“Don’t gang up on me with _my_ cat!” James protested, “We’re just starting to form a relationship! You’re going to poison her against me!” 

“I’m just giving her realistic expectations,” Lily retorted, “The lower they are to begin with the better it will be for the both of you, I’m sure.” 

“Whatever Evans,” James replied sourly, before becoming entranced by the adorable way Mittens played with a straw wrapper that Lily had found. Their conversation devolved into commentating every move the kitten made, each of them adopting a silly voice that they insisted represented the inner monologue of the tiny creature. 

(And James felt a warmth in his stomach that wasn’t from the drink, and he was so glad to have come here because getting drunk on Lily was a thousand times more effective than liquor he could ever buy.)

“I have another question for you, Evans,” James said, quite out of the blue, as the kitten clumsily chased a fly around the pub. He and Lily decided to sit on the floor for a better view, and were leaning against the wooden bar. 

“Isn’t it technically my turn?” she asked, squealing in excitement as Mittens barely missed the fly with a bat of her paw. 

“Do you have a question to ask me, then?” 

She considered this, “Actually, no. The floor’s all yours.”

“Well, as your trusted friend Bill-”

“I still think Elvendork was a missed opportunity,” she interrupted, “Can’t it at least be your middle name?” 

James rolled his eyes, “ _Fine_. As your trusted friend Bill _Elvendork_ the First, I would like to ask you what you think of James Potter.” He winced as soon as he said it, bracing for the blow that he was positive was coming or for the automatic answer of _prat_ , _berk_ , etc. that always seemed to roll off her tongue (it was a stupid question to ask but James had always had a difficulty filtering through all of his ideas when he was around Lily) but she remained both still and silent.

In fact, she seemed to be pondering this question very deeply, taking it much more seriously than James had dared to hope. He watched her as she thought, picking at the ends of her hair while she bit her lip, occasionally opening her mouth as if she was ready to reply before going back to that very serious thinking look that she had. (He knew the look very well from all the times he had spied on her while she was studying in the library, it was even more entrancing up close. He had to sit on his hands so he wouldn’t be tempted to reach out and stroke her worried lip. He wasn’t sure which was killing him more, how he was nearly jumping out of his skin with the need to touch her or the fact she was keeping him waiting for so long for the answer to a question that he thought she knew like the back of her hand). 

Finally it seemed she had come to an agreement with herself about what to say. “I’m not really sure how to feel about James Potter,” she began cautiously, “There’s a lot of evil in this world, and Potter is definitely not a part of that. In fact, from all appearances he seems to be a really decent guy. All of my friends like him, and so does pretty much everyone I respect. I _want_ to like him. But he just makes it so damn hard. Whenever he’s around me he just does such _stupid_ things, really mean things too, but doesn’t see the issue with it. Never apologizes, not that I’ve heard anyways, and I’m sure I would have known if he was handing them out seeing as I’m usually the victim in all of his schemes.” James cringed a bit as he watched the heat rise in her face as she worked herself up more and more. He was surprised, though, when she stopped herself and took a deep, calming breath before continuing. “So yeah. Not evil, but just kind of a dick, at least when he’s around me.” She hesitated for a moment, and closed her eyes before hurriedly spitting out, “And he wants more from me than I’m willing to give right now and that’s that.” 

Suddenly he missed the days of her shouting and throwing things at him. The gentle way she said it only made it all the more painful, the way she wouldn’t meet his eyes made his cheeks burn with embarassment. This felt so final, like she really meant it. 

(He didn’t realize that she wasn’t meeting his eyes was because she was afraid for him to see the uncertainty in hers.) 

James slumped against the bar, so low that only his head was propped up, and let out a deep sigh. “Did I just ruin everything?” he asked sadly. 

He felt her slump down right next to him. “I think things between us were doomed from the start,” she said softly, “We’re just… _too much_ when we’re together in the outside world, too many complications and obligations, too much history.” 

James had always felt that _too much_ feeling was what made them so great together. But, for once, he decided not to argue. After nearly ten years, James was finally reaching the acceptance stage over the loss of Lily. “So what do we do now?” he asked. 

“I’m not sure,” she said uncertainly, “Our friends are friends, and we still have to work together…” 

“I can try to keep my distance,” he said reluctantly, “And try to be less of a prat too. Just back off a bit.” 

“That’s…yeah,” she agreed lamely. 

James noted that this felt a whole lot like a break up. 

“Could I still come here sometimes?” he asked hesitantly. “You know, as Bill Elven – _Merlin_ , that’s the worst name ever,” he cringed. 

Lily laughed softly, “I suppose that would be okay. We all have those nights, where we need to not be ourselves for a bit, just forget for a while. And our friends aren’t the greatest at letting things go.” 

“Nosy bastards,” James muttered darkly, causing her to snort. “I think it’s only fair that I get to make up your not-Evans name, then.” 

“I suppose,” she said, sighing dramatically as she gave in. 

“I’ll have to think on it. ‘S got to be truly horrendous,” he commented. She turned her head to give him a small smile, which he returned before saying more seriously, “And if you, you know, have one of those nights, just owl me or Floo me, yeah?” 

She nodded, and surprisingly James actually believed she would. 

“Suppose it’s time for me to head home. Still have work tomorrow,” he grimaced, “Now where’d that cat get off to?” 

It took them a good fifteen minutes to find Mittens, who had wedged herself under a hutch in one of the corners of the room. Eventually Lily got her out, and she handed the kitten off to James. “Bring her again sometime, yeah?” the redhead asked hopefully. 

“Will do,” James agreed, “Until next time, Evans?” 

“Until next time, Bill Elvendork the First,” she agreed with a grin. 

James heard the click of the lock behind him as he left the pub and apparated back home. As he slid into bed for the second time that night, Mittens snuggled into his rat-nest of hair, he was left with a bittersweet feeling. In one way he had lost Lily that night, but in other ways he felt he had gained so much more. One step forward, two steps back. Or maybe two steps forward and only one step back? 

He just wasn’t sure.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends! Thank you so much to everyone who has read and reviewed this story! This chapter was a beast to write, I hated it right up until I published, and I like it now but, still, it is mostly a fluffy filler. But James/Lily fluff is the best so I suppose it's alright. Next week's chapter is intense, so I guess this one is a nice break. Also, ten points if you can spot the Hamilton reference. Anyways, thank you for reading and please leave a review, they mean the world!

9.

  
Lily and James’s relationship hit a strange sort of stasis over the next couple of weeks. When they saw each other around all of their friends they ignored each other. At Order meetings they were coolly polite. Any other time they avoided each other.

Except at night.

Invariably two or three times a week James had a bad day at work, or Lily owled him that she needed a break, and the messy-haired wizard would come knocking at the door. They would spend hours talking about nothing as they watched Mittens fumble across the floors on her oversized paws.

It was kind of a reverse Cinderella: when the clock struck midnight, the real world melted away, and the witch and wizard were free to live in a fantasyland where there was no war or death, no estranged family or worrisome friends. It was just the two of them.

Every once in awhile Lily would doubt her reasons for keeping James at an arm’s length. James would question why he ever thought it was a good reason to give her up.

But then five Order members would stumble into the Inverness Hospital Wing with _Sectumsempra_ cuts, and James would get in a screaming match with her until she agreed to teach everyone the countercurse at the next meeting.

Or Lily would get cornered by both Sirius and Remus in the same day, and she would realize that he had told all of his friends about their kiss and go into her potion’s room to throw plates at the wall again.

Still, they had those midnights. 

* * *

 They each chose that night for different reasons. 

For James, it was because three families had been murdered. All were homes of Muggleborn witches and wizards home from Hogwarts on holiday; one was only a first year. There were no arrests. 

For Lily, it was because there had been an outbreak of cursed Muggle artifacts across Britain, lathered in a potion that caused necrosis, slowly creeping up the victim’s body and staining the skin black with death and decay. She had two victims upstairs right now, and if she didn’t come up with a countercurse or antidote soon they would have to amputate to stop the spread.

But when James walked into the pub (Lily left a charm that allowed it to automatically unlock just for him) he felt like he was suddenly shedding some kind of heavy armor that he seemed to constantly be wearing now (the kind of armor that kept you from feeling because the horrors you saw would make you feel too much) and the messy-haired wizard was able to smile again. 

And Lily felt the whirling list of ingredients and chemistry equations, spell theory and wand motions that was moving so fast in her mind it was making her whole body buzz, suddenly stop. Like everything was put on pause. Silence. 

Lily was in her usual thinking spot on the kitchen counter, her feet dangling into the deep sink. Unlike Sirius who had just accepted her strange seating choice and ignored it, or Benjy who had repeatedly teased her about it, James went straight up to the sink and hopped onto the kitchen counter, kicking off his shoes before letting his feet dangle in the sink with hers. 

“You know, this would be a lot more fun if this was full of water to splash in,” James commented in an easy tone as he settled, nudging her foot with his own. Lily could see the white-tipped ears of Mittens peaking out of the pocket of his robes. 

“I feel like that could be dangerous, knowing us,” Lily replied seriously, although her smile betrayed her. 

“Who, Bill Elvendork and Candi with an ‘i’?” James said innocently.

“I still can’t believe you gave me a stripper name,” Lily huffed, shooting him a glare.

“It’s called _exotic dancing_ , Candi, get with the times,” he replied with a dramatic roll of his eyes. “But really, I think we can be trusted,” the wizard insisted, “After all, we _are_ friends.”

And they _were_ friends, she supposed. At least, within their little bubble they were. When it was just them, just the two of them with no outside world or history, just Lily and James ( _or Bill and Candi,_ she interjected in her mind, just as she knew James would), it was perfect.

He made her laugh.

That was the first thing that stood out to her. Not just a short giggle or single ‘ha ha’. The ‘throw your head back and laugh until you wheeze’ kind of laugh. That awful, painful, belly-aching kind of laugh that you felt the next day. The kind that no matter how poised or elegant you were (and Lily was neither) you ended up sounding like a mix between a maniac and a braying donkey. 

It was intoxicating.

She hadn’t realized how long she had gone without having a real laugh until James started coming round. Her laugh had gone so unused that she imagined a heavy dust falling on her lungs, and every time the ridiculous, messy-haired wizard entered the pub she was able to shake some of it off. 

Lily really did breathe easier around him. 

And, without an audience to impress, James was thoughtful and kind (two adjectives Lily never thought she would apply to him). He always helped her prepare the vegetables that would be going into the soups, casseroles, and meat pies the following day (she refused to magic the knives into cutting the vegetables themselves, it seemed like it was just asking for trouble) even though she had never even asked him to. He doted on that silly little kitten of his. And he listened. 

Merlin, did he _listen_. 

When she talked, she felt like a stage performer, so complete was his attention. He took in every word she said, even when they were just joking around or telling silly stories, as if it was the answer to some question he’d been searching for his whole life. Even when they were chopping vegetables side by side, both paying attention to the work their hands were doing, she could feel his entire body attuned to her. She did not have to see his face to know that he was lapping up every word she said. 

And she knew that her words stuck. James could recall the most minute detail from a conversation they had three years ago and effortlessly infuse it into their current conversation (although this usually embarrassed Lily as during most of their previous interactions she had been anything but kind).

For a girl who felt like she had been shouting her whole life to be noticed, to be taken seriously, to be _valued_ , having someone just sit there and listen, _really listen_ , was _everything_. 

Some days she wished she could stay inside their little bubble forever.

But James was looking at her like an eager puppy as he waited for the answer to his question, so she pushed that (incredibly confusing) longing aside. “I suppose,” she said with a long-suffering sigh, reaching for the faucet at the time that James reached for his wand. “Oh, right,” Lily blushed, withdrawing her hand and gesturing at him to continue. With a flick of his wrist, the sink filled up into a frothy, bubbling bath.

Lily felt a familiar roiling in her stomach, a worry, a fear. “Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever truly get used to it,” she said quietly, glancing down at the bubble bath James had conjured, “Magic, I mean. It’s still not quite a reflex like it is with you. I wonder if it will ever come so easily to me.” She raised her head and caught James’s intense stare. “I don’t think that I’m inferior because of my upbringing or anything,” she added quickly, knowing without having to ask where his thoughts were leading, “I’m not dense. It’s more, I feel like I got dropped into this world so far behind the rest of you. And I’ve done my damned best to catch up, you can be sure, but somehow…I always fear I’m going to be one step behind.”

It was every Muggleborn’s fear, and she was sure the reason why so many ‘moderates’ were now drifting towards Voldemort’s side. If the Muggleborns themselves didn’t feel like they truly belonged, then why should a pureblood fight for them to stay?

“You know, I went to a Quidditch camp in Japan once,” James began, catching Lily off guard. She nearly rolled her eyes because _of course_ he was randomly talking about Quidditch in the middle of a fairly serious conversation. But James didn’t have that far-off look in his eyes that usually accompanied any talk of his favorite subject. Instead, his warm hazel eyes were focused completely on her. It was for this reason that she held her tongue. “Not to be braggy or anything,” he continued with a grin, “But I am _pretty good_ at Quiddi – hey we said no splashing! I’m hurt, truly. Anyways, it was complete hell for me. That’s right, Quidditch phenomenon James Potter wanted to go home after the first week. By the way, I will need to have you sign a disclosure agreement after this conversation, can’t let this get out now, can I? See, I knew how to play the game same as them. But I had no idea what the hell they were saying, what they wanted me to do. Probably should have researched the language a bit before I begged mum and dad to send me, but hindsight is twenty-twenty I guess. So the first three days of camp I couldn’t even tell when they were asking me to get on my broom, let alone when they wanted to do a Porskoff Ploy. It was a disaster. At the end of the three weeks – yes, I lasted a whole three weeks, don’t look so surprised – at the end of the three weeks I had picked up enough of the language to play right alongside them. I got really quick at translating all of their words in my head. But no matter how quick I got, I was still translating, yeah? Didn’t make me any less of a Quidditch player when it came down to it. I just spoke another language.” He took a deep breath, having rushed through his words a bit, before ruffling his hair and looking up at her in that wonderfully innocent yet profound way of his, “And I figure that’s a lot like being a Muggleborn, yeah? You’re not any less of a witch, you’re just having to take an extra step than the rest of us, translating in a way.” 

The easy nature with which he said it all caught Lily off-guard; it did not feel forced or condescending at all, like so many ‘comforting’ comments made towards Muggleborns by purebloods. He really meant it, and for some reason this caused a small flutter in her stomach. 

James was staring at her nervously, and she realized she still hadn’t said anything in reply. _Merlin, he probably thinks he offended me or something_ , Lily thought, distressed. She managed to squeak, “Brilliant. That was brilliant.” 

He beamed at her. “Actually, I would like to hear more about the Muggle world. Seeing as my Muggle Studies class was a joke and all.” 

Lily snorted (breaking free from whatever spell she had been under by the power of her disdain for the subject), “You can say that again.” They had had this conversation many times when James had first tried (and miserably, comically failed) to interpret her Muggle references and jokes. The Muggle Studies classes, which Lily had found out was taught by a halfblood that had grown up exclusively in the wizarding world, only covered Muggle culture in relation to wizarding culture. Because of this, James had a lot of misconceptions about the Muggle world, as well as astounding gaps in knowledge (they had spent an equal amount of time talking about the Salem witch trials and the Wizard of Oz). He was pretty much useless. “What do you want to know, then?” 

“Hm…,” he began, mulling over the thought as he played with the rims of his spectacles (a habit that drove Lily crazy, he always got fingerprints all over the lenses and then she insisted on cleaning them or he would be a danger to himself and the world), “Tell me about what you miss most about the Muggle world.”

That was a loaded question. Lily felt a tight squeeze in her chest, the feeling of loss that she worked so hard to keep under wraps working its way to the surface. Where to even begin? She was bombarded by memories: of baking bread from scratch next to her mother in their horrendously outdated kitchen, of playing Monopoly with her family on a Saturday night (which her father always won), of letting Petunia practice using her makeup set on her when they were still friends, still real sisters. But all of these were too painful to talk about (she could feel a panic attack rising just thinking about them), so she said the first thing that came to mind. 

“Star Wars.” At James’s confused look, she continued, “Or, rather, movies in general. Television.” The wizard’s face still looked blank. “You’re kidding,” she said flatly, nonplussed, “They seriously never talked about the telly?” James shook his head. Sometimes Lily wondered if a bit of curriculum oversight might not do Hogwarts some good. I mean, _really_.

Lily went on to describe (clumsily, she was never very good with technology to begin with and now she was way out of touch) how movies and television worked. It ended up to be much more of a process than she had anticipated, being interrupted by James every other word as she was. 

“So it’s like a book, but you can watch it like it’s in a painting? Except they never break character,” James said, looking to the redhead for confirmation. 

She nodded, “Yes, so it’s pre-recorded meaning the people on screen can never do anything but that exact same story over and over again.” 

“Well that’s a bit depressing.” 

“It’s not-,” Lily paused, trying to collect her thoughts. This was infinitely more complicated than she had anticipated it being. “It’s not the same as if we were forcing people in paintings to act something out over and over again. The people in paintings are conscious, to some degree. Muggle movies are like Muggle pictures, the same image without the, I don’t know, _soul_ , I guess.”

“I feel like there’s some intense philosophical discussion we could pursue here,” he said loftily, before adopting his trademark crooked grin, “But I’d much rather hear about this space fight thing.”

“Star Wars,” Lily corrected automatically, before she cringed. (Sometimes the intensity of her inner nerd scared her a bit). “Okay, so, it begins with this girl, a princess really, and her name was Leia…” 

James watched her in complete rapture for the better part of an hour as she waxed rhapsody over a galaxy far, far away. At some point during the story they had left the sink (their toes having become positively prune-y) and had taken their usual seat leaning against the bar. They had magicked paper airplanes to for Mittens to chase after (and which James kept on making dive-bomb the poor kitten, leading Lily to threaten to sue for custody). 

“So they really have swords that are, like, made out of fire?” he asked (for the third time) after she had finished, still astounded. 

Lily nodded tiredly, “Yes, but they’re not _real_ , they’re just special effects. Using technology to make it look like that.” 

Suddenly James looked like a child on Christmas, “Holy Agrippa, I bet we could come up with a spell to make them, though! Just think about it!” He proceeded to mime swinging a light saber around. “I have to see this telefilm thing, or whatever. I’m serious, Candi, I might die if I don’t.” 

“Well good luck with that,” Lily laughed, “It’s out of theatres and it costs a fortune to get in on a format that will play on the telly.” 

James still looked determined, but let it go for the moment. “I can’t believe they never talked about this in Muggle Studies,” he said with a pout, “What a waste.” 

“That’s what you get from a blow-off class, I guess,” the redhead teased, “I’m surprised you put up with it all the way to the NEWT level. You must have been bored out of your mind.” He suddenly looked uncomfortable, which confused Lily. “What? What did I say?” 

“You know that’s not why I took it, right?” he asked, a bit sadly. She looked at him blankly. “You really had no idea,” he mumbled under his breath to himself (she still heard him). 

Lily suddenly felt suffocatingly uncomfortable and, desperate to change the subject, once again blurted a subject without really thinking it through.

“Petunia.”

James seemed taken aback by the subject change. “Like the flower?” he asked, confused.

“Like my sister,” she replied quietly (already berating herself for having brought up the subject, but for some reason felt an urge to continue on).

“I didn’t know you have a sister,” he said, his eyebrows furrowed as he observed her.

“I _had_ one,” she replied, wincing as she enunciated that one word that made all the difference in the world, “I don’t anymore, not really. She disowned me.”

He remained quiet, as if any word would be treading upon unsoiled ground. Which she supposed it was. She had never really talked about her sister, at least, not in _this_ way. But suddenly the words were barreling out of her; a crack had formed in the dam and it all came crashing down.

“Growing up, we were _best_ friends. She was three years older than me but we did everything together. We played with our stuffed animals together, and she helped to teach me how to read. We would hijack mum’s fancy silver tea set and have tea parties with our dolls, although she always yelled at us about that one. We even bought all the same style clothing so we could dress the same, always be matching. Everyone knew we were a matching set.

“We lived in a pretty shitty part of town, and the other kids were not pleasant, to say the least. I got picked on a lot when I was younger. Well, really all the way up until Hogwarts. I was this really tiny little kid, which made me an easy target, and everyone could tell I was a little _off._ Even the adults said so. But Tuney always defended me, even got a black eye one time in a scuffle with Devon Dawson after he shoved me off the swings at the playground behind my house. She was my only friend, until…” Lily shot James a covert glance to gauge his reaction, but he had barely even blinked. So she soldiered on, “Well, until Sev. By that time I had started showing signs of magic, and it scared her to death. See, she had always been so controlling, particularly of me, but suddenly there was a part of me that was completely out of her control. And she hated it, hated that part of me, I could tell even then. She fell in with this snooty crowd at her school, these absolutely _atrocious_ rich kids. So spoiled, it was sick. And like I said, we did _not_ live in a nice area, it would almost be generous saying we were dirt poor, and I guess what with me having my magic and all, Petunia had to find another way to claw herself out of that hellhole. So she became perfect, well more like perfectly normal, and suddenly I didn’t fit into her life anymore. And then I got my Hogwarts letter, and she stopped talking to me altogether. 

“And then, when my parents died, were killed by Death Eaters, she blamed me. Said she never wanted to see my face again. That I wasn’t her sister anymore.”

“She sounds like a right bitch,” James said instantly the moment she was done. He had a strange mix of anger and hurt on his face, as if he was taking on the pain for her. (She could tell by the lack of shock, though, that he had known about her parents already; Marlene, or even Sirius, must have told him. Surprisingly, she was glad for that; talking about Petunia had already been too much.) 

“I know. And she is, I know she is. But the thing is, I still miss her every day. See, I knew my sister like I know my own mind. Losing her was like a piece of myself, and it never stops hurting.” 

They sat silently for a while, and then a while longer, and then too long, and Lily wondered if she had broken it, whatever they had. She had brought the real world into this utopia that they had built around them, and she had broken it. And she was surprised by how panicked she felt at the thought of losing him. 

Finally James broke the silence. “It’s okay to feel that hurt, and to miss her too. It’s like getting punched in the face. Any way you look at it, you’re gonna feel that black eye the next day. That pain if real. Doesn’t mean that what was behind that pain is okay, and you need to remember that what Petunia did, that her motives, were wrong. But still, whenever you feel _anything_ , I reckon, sad, hurt, or whatever, those feelings are always valid. It’s okay to feel that way.” 

And Lily was shocked. Her friends had always said the Petunia was a bitch, a shrew, that Lily should just ignore her, and left it at that. Told her she shouldn’t feel hurt because Tuney was wrong. But telling someone not to feel something never worked, you can’t logic you’re way out of feeling. And James had just told her it was okay, and that made her feel a thousand times better than all the times her friends had told her she was better off without her sister combined. For the first time, she felt a kind of closure. 

“Thanks for that,” she said, and she knew her words underplayed everything he had said, how much it meant to her, but she didn’t know how to put her gratitude into words. Instead, she scooted closer to him and leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder. She had done this dozens of times with her friends before: Marlene, Benjy, Dorcas, hell even Sirius (for such a private person she had always craved physical touch). But this was different, for some reason. She felt comforted, safe. 

(She couldn’t remember the last time she had felt safe.)

She could feel his warmth through the wooly jumper he wore, and she was overcome with the sudden urge to burrow into his chest. Something about James radiated pure love, pure loyalty, she could see it in the way he treated his friends, treated everyone really (she willfully ignored out the exceptions, they had no place in their little bubble).

Suddenly she had an idea. 

“Hey, can I ask you something?” she queried. When he nodded, she continued, “So I’m working on these wards. Trying to make a stronger one really. But I’m having trouble…” Lily went on to explain the complications of the ward, how she was trying to find an anchor in love. How she hoped to someday be able to coat each of her loved ones in it, to keep them safe. 

“…I just can’t figure out how to anchor it. Memories haven’t worked, like for patronuses, and I don’t want to base it in hate like the Unforgivables. I’ve hit a wall,” the redhead sighed, before looking at the messy-haired wizard hopefully, “Any ideas?” 

James was playing with his glasses again, brow furrowed as he pondered the problem. “Well, maybe, okay this may sound stupid, but do Muggles do the thing where you wish upon a star?” he asked. 

“Yes, Muggles do, I had no idea wizards did that too,” Lily replied in a tone of surprise. It seemed like one of those silly things that wizards would laugh at, Muggles playing at magic when they really had no idea what they were doing. 

“Yeah, it’s an old practice, ancient magic and all that, no one really believes it works anymore but they teach little kids to do it anyways, kind of a good luck thing,” he explained, “Anyways, I was thinking that maybe you could make a wish? For whoever you are trying to protect, I mean, make a wish for their safety or whatever. It could focus your thoughts, or something. I dunno, I was always bollocks at magical theory, I don’t really know how it works.” He gave her a sheepish look. 

Lily was completely taken aback, though. It was actually a _brilliant_ idea, really could work. “That’s brilliant,” she told him, nudging him with her elbow playfully, “When did you become so smart?” 

“Was bound to happen sometime,” he laughed back. He looked at his watch then. “Well, I suppose it’s time for me to head out. I still have to write up my notes for the Order Meeting tomorrow. Long night ahead,” he sighed, standing up. He used the final paper plane (the only one that Mittens hadn’t thoroughly destroyed) to draw the kitten to him, pocketing her as she let out a squeaky mew in protest. 

“Join the club,” she teased, standing as well and bumping him with her hip. 

“You know I do this in solidarity, just for you,” he teased back, that same crooked grin curving his lips. 

“My hero,” she drawled sarcastically, holding the door open for him (reluctantly, she really didn’t want him to go. Although she told herself it was because now she would have to go back upstairs, and watch those poor Muggles slowly die because she was too _stupid_ to think of a cure. But that wasn’t the reason, not really.). He stepped outside, and the spell they had spent the night under was broken. They were back to reality. 

“’Night, Evans. See you tomorrow,” he said, the same look of defeat on his face as she knew graced hers. As he had said before, it was going to be a long night. For the both of them. 

“'Night, Potter,” she replied, closing the door. She watched him through the small stained glass window as he walked away, finally disappearing from view. 

* * *

Lily stood up from the desk, stretching her arms out and twisting her torso side to side as she attempted to work out the knots that had formed in their backs. The Order meeting has lasted nearly two hours, and Lily’s bum had begun to ache from sitting for so long.

It had been a dreary meeting, to say the least. The number of Death Eater attacks had been increasing at an alarming pace. And even more distressing, there were rumors of a piece of legislation floating around in the Ministry that would require all Muggleborns to go through some sort of registration, and all Muggleborns being accepted to Hogwarts would have to go through a series of trials to prove they were worthy, truly magical.

Lily knew that the Muggleborn Registration Act would be a death sentence for anyone who registered. There were too many suspected Death Eaters working in the Ministry; it would be like handing over the list of all Muggleborns to Voldemort, and Merlin knew what would happen then. It was thoroughly depressing, and completely terrifying.

The redhead was pulled out of her morose thoughts by the shouts of one Sirius Black. “No one leave! We have a gift for everyone!” he called to the room as everyone froze. He, James, Remus, and Peter pulled out stacks of brightly wrapped, lumpy packages from who knows where, and began distributing them across the room.

“What in the world is this?” Lily asked as James appeared in front of her, his spectacles as lopsided as his grin.

“Why don’t you open it and found out?” he teased back.

She did what he said, tearing apart the shiny paper to reveal a t-shirt. Holding it up, she let out a loud guffaw. “You didn’t!” she laughed, her face lighting up like a Christmas tree. The t-shirt was baby blue, with a golden phoenix emblazoned on the front. “You know the Order isn’t some sports team, right?” she asked, although she was beaming as she said it.

“Doesn’t mean we can’t have some team spirit!” James replied cheerily, before hearing a call from across the room. “Got to go, still have some shirts to pass out. But stick around after the picture, yeah?”

“Picture?” she called after him, but he was already weaving through the (noticeably cheerier) crowd.

Her question was soon answered, though, when Sirius stood up on the table and called, “Alright, everyone, line up now! T-shirts on! We’re going to take a group picture!”

“Isn’t that a bit dangerous?” Mary MacDonald piped up.

“We’ve spelled the film of the camera so that only Order members can see the picture,” Remus explained as he set up the camera on a tripod. Everyone was jostling around, trying to get in some sort of order for the photo. Three rows had formed, and somehow Lily had ended up in the back row, right next to James. 

“Oi! Wormtail! Get in here!” Sirius called out to their friend, squeezing him in between Lily and James. The messy-haired wizard looked a bit put out, shooting a glare at Sirius (and secretly Lily felt a pang of disappointment as well).

But she was immediately distracted as she looked around the room, a broad smile forming on her face. There was Frank, Alice, and Marlene in the front row, striking poses as they modeled their new shirts. Moody has refused to don his, but Lily laughed out loud when she saw that Dumbledore has put his on over his periwinkle robes. Lily’s heart felt full enough to burst as she took them all in, gathered there together, a force, a family, a _resistance_.

Over Peter’s head, Lily caught James’s eye. _You did good_ , she mouthed to him, and he rewarded her with a broad smile.

“Okay everyone, smile on three!” Remus called as he set the timer on the camera, hurrying over to stand in between Benjy and Emmeline Vance. “One, two, three…”

“CHEESE!”

* * *

The room had just about cleared out when James made his way over to Lily. He looked nervous, she noticed, which made her nervous in return. True, they had made a point to never interact all that much outside of those midnights, but really, she wasn’t _that_ scary. 

“Hey Evans,” he greeted her, running his hands through his hair nervously, “So I have a proposition.”

She gave him a dubious look.

“Okay, yeah, not great word choice,” he choked out, “It’s just, a question of sorts, a request, or a – okay, I’m just going to keep going. So, it’s Christmas on Tuesday, yeah? Well of course it’s Christmas, you know that already – right, back to my point. The past couple of years, the lads and I have hosted a kind of Christmas party. Well, at first it was with my parents, they kind of like to collect strays, not that you’re stray of course, I’m rambling aren’t I? Anyways, we have a Christmas party for people who don’t really have anywhere to go, we call it Orphan Christmas, kind of as a joke but I guess it’s true for most of us, but my point is, do you want to spend Christmas with me? I mean us, there’s a whole lot of people coming not just me-” 

“Merlin, shut up already, Potter,” she laughed, “You’re going to give yourself an aneurysm. Yes, I’ll come.”

(It was strange how nervous he was talking to her, after all they had spent nearly a dozen nights together, talking for hours. She considered that the idea of the two of them outside their bubble was a daunting idea. It definitely was for her).

“Oh. Really?” he asked, looking completely surprised by how easily she had agreed. This made Lily laugh again.

“Sure, not like I have anything better to do,” she shrugged, hoping that didn’t sound too pitiful.

Apparently not, because the messy-haired wizard beamed back at her. “Brilliant,” he breathed, running his hand through his hair again. “Well, I best go tell the lads, then. But I’ll see you Tuesday, yeah?”

“Sure, Potter,” she smiled back. As he walked away, she wondered if agreeing to be with him, and all of their friends too, was all that good of an idea. Last time it had ended in disaster, after all. She didn’t want to ruin things between them again. (She carefully ignored the niggling thought that she relied on him too much to lose him. That would only lead to trouble.)

But she had told him about Petunia, and the world hadn’t stopped turning. So maybe this could work, too.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has read, reviewed, and bookmarked this story! I hope you guys enjoy the happy, fluffy part of this chapter. (Because I already started working on Chapter 11, and guys I am so sorry. I cried while I was writing it. Please don’t hate me.) Thank you to everyone for reading, and welcome to Orphan Christmas!

10.

 

The Potter Manor was huge. James had never really noticed until he moved into his cramped flat in London just how big it really was. It was a matter of perspective, he figured. He had grown up being shuttled back and forth from the Manor to Hogwarts, both sprawling estates with far too many rooms, more than anyone could ever need. He had visited his mates at their homes, of course, and been on holiday plenty of times. But anywhere else was just a bit like a hotel to him; livable, yes, but only for those few days before he was able to return to his real home.

Despite having moved nearly two years ago, and his parents being gone for a good fifteen months now, James hadn’t been able to bring himself to sell the Manor. None of the Potter properties, really: not the villa outside of Bordeaux, not their beachside bungalow in the south of Wales, and not the little cottage in the small wizarding town of Godric’s Hollow. He just couldn’t let them go. Not yet.

On significant days like today, days that smelled like his mother’s rosewater perfume and tasted like his father’s cigars, James liked to visit them. Today, early Christmas morning with the sun just barely peeking over the horizon, the messy-haired wizard was exploring the hallways of his ancient home, a nostalgic yet content smile on his face as he revisited his childhood.

His mother had always loved Christmas. Obsessed, actually, might be the better term. Euphemia Potter would line every hallway with Ever-Sparkling tinsel, and drape every bannister with lush garlands that she would spell to stay fresh and aromatic throughout the holidays. She had a set of twelve porcelain reindeer that she charmed to sing carols (James thought this may be where his fascination with deer came from) and had come up with her own unique spell to make the air glitter with gold on Christmas morning. Every year she strong-armed them into wearing matching pajamas with painfully cute-sy prints, from dancing snowmen to smiling snowflakes. She always gave the best gifts.

His father was so enamored with his wife that he would have made every day Christmas if only to put a smile on her face. Seeing as even the great Fleamont Potter was not able to manage such a feat, he instead did his best to put on as extravagant, as ridiculous a show as possible. On the first of the twelve days of Christmas every year he would put on his best snow boots and, axe in hand and tater-tot sized James trailing after him, explore the vast woods that circled their estate for the _perfect_ Christmas tree. He taught James how to chop it down by hand, the Muggle way (with James hardly being able to lift the axe at first), telling him that when you really put some sweat into it the whole Christmas season was enhanced: the tree smelled fresher, the fireplace felt warmer, and the gingerbread cookies tasted sweeter. As always, his father was right. 

After they had chopped down the tree, James and his father would spend the whole day decorating it with hand-made strands of popcorn, candy canes, and whatever else the two of them could find. At the end, Mr. Potter would lift James over his head to place the star at the top of the tree. Only after it was completely decorated would the two of them present it to Mrs. Potter. Every year she cried with joy. 

James felt his smile grow as he entered the living room where they had always kept the tree. It was his favorite room in the whole house. All the other rooms had these vaulted ceilings and shiny wooden floors, and they always felt a bit chilly no matter how many fires were raging in the assortment of fireplaces. All of the other rooms made the house feel much too large for a family of three (which it was). But the living room was tiny, with ceilings low enough that the tip of the tree always bent a bit against it and a hideous plush red carpet that James loved to sink his toes into. His family would curl up on the carpet and sit in front of the fireplace, drinking cocoa and tossing marshmallows at each other as they opened gifts.

For him, this room simply screamed _family_. 

And he remembered how his family had grown year after year. It had been Sirius first, of course, the Christmas before he had been kicked out by his family. Christmas had always been a gloomy time of the year for his best friend, a double whammy of having to be around his insane family _and_ having to dress up in those stuffy formal dress robes when he attended the Black Family Christmas Gala. But during their fifth year, James’s parents had used the (in)famous Potter charm to convince the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black to allow their heir to spend the holidays at their house. Both James and Sirius had marveled at Mr. and Mrs. Potter’s accomplishment (in the end they agreed it there had to have some sort of blackmail involved, it was the only reasonable explanation). 

That year there had been four curled up in front of the fire, and somehow twice the number of marshmallows being tossed. And it had felt like the most natural thing in the world. 

Sixth year it had been Peter. His dad had a heart attack when he was only three, so his mum was all he had left. But she had fallen ill that year, really seriously ill. None of the Healers could figure out why, but she seemed to diminish a bit every day. She had to go into full-time care at St. Mungo’s, and had insisted that Peter stayed at the Potters’ over the Christmas hols. He visited her nearly every day, but had also been absorbed into the Potter clan. That year there was five. 

And then seventh year it was Remus. His mum had split when he was five, barely a year after he had been bitten, and his dad had slowly drunken himself to death. His liver finally failed in October, to no one’s great shock. And so it was that all four Marauders found themselves on that plush red carpet on Christmas morning, sipping marshmallow-less cocoa because Mr. and Mrs. Potter had been forced to ban them earlier that week after a certain incident in the library. 

It was last year, the first Christmas without the elder Potters, that they had officially dubbed it Orphan Christmas after getting (more than) a bit drunk at their flat one night.

And now James’s little family had grown again. 

Closing up the Potter Manor once more, he apparated back to his flat. The lads were waiting for him, wearing the matching Christmas tree pajamas that Mrs. Potter had gotten them all seventh year (they were much too small for them now but none of them had been able to give up the tradition). Remus handed James his cup of cocoa while Sirius tossed a bag of marshmallows at him (they had decided that they each needed their own separate bag this year after Sirius had broken James’s glasses and Peter had gotten a bloody nose fighting over the single bag last year). James sat on the cold, chipped tile floor next to the roaring fireplace (much less comfortable than the plush red carpet, he thought regretfully) admiring the tree that he had chopped down all by himself a couple of weeks ago. It was much scrawnier than the ones his dad had always managed to find, but still, James was proud. And looking at his three brothers, already chucking marshmallows at each, cups of cocoa forgotten, he felt the familiar warmth of contentment.

 

* * *

 

Lily stood in front of the heavy metal door, observing the white paint that had begun to chip away. Well, it must have been chipping for a while, she mused, it was more door than paint at this point. She clutched a wine bottle in front of her chest, her knuckles nearly white. Wine was what people brought to adult dinner parties, right? But did this even count as an ‘adult’ party? She certainly didn’t feel like an adult, and a third year had better impulse control then the Marauders. So what did one classify this party as, then? Was wine presumptuous of her to bring? What if there wasn’t any alcohol at the party? Oh, who was she kidding, of course there was going to be alcohol. That was a stupid question. 

The redhead took a deep breath all of a sudden, trying to still her wandering mind. 

She was nervous. 

( _Why was she nervous? It’s just Potter, she’d spent the last ten years around him, this was ridiculous-)_  

“Lily, love, are you going to knock anytime soon? Just wondering, it’s a bit chilly out here,” Mary said in a saccharine voice. The redhead shot her a glare. The blonde witch radiated a motherly warmth, but sometimes slipped in a sharp wit and cutting sarcasm amongst her dulcet tones. It was so hard to detect that it was easy to become the butt of the joke without even realizing it. 

Mary and Dorcas flanked the redhead witch as she turned back to face the door. The three girls had managed to bribe Mundungus Fletcher to watch the bar for them that evening so they could attend the dinner party. There wasn’t anyone in the Hospital Wing at the moment, and the pub was closed for the holiday anyways, so they figured it would be safe for the night. (Actually, the thought process had gone much more along the lines of “ _Mundungus would have to get really creative to fuck this one up”_ but that’s neither here nor there.) 

The Marauders had invited all of the Gryffindor girls, and Benjy as well, to their famous Orphan Christmas (or at least they claimed it was famous, that was still to be seen). Dorcas was thrilled (not that you could tell from her cool demeanor, but still); she had stopped going home after the incident in seventh year. She had still hidden her true blood status from everyone but her closest friends in order to protect her family, whom she still loved dearly despite their refusal to choose sides in the war, but after her allegiances had been made so public at Hogwarts she had avoided returning home so as not to bring the fight to their doorstep. Because of this, the holidays had been a bit dreary and lonely, especially since she usually spent them with a mopey Lily. Mary had been relieved as well, seeing as this was her first Christmas without her family, and Benjy was always up for a party (and this was also a good distraction from his homesickness, not that he would ever say so). 

Even Marlene was coming, managing to steal away from her four younger siblings and parents for a couple of hours. She was positively devoted to her family, but said she needed a break from the chaos of having four children under the age of ten running around. Needed some adult conversation, she had said loftily, causing everyone listening to snort. “More like a drink and a smoke _,_ ” Dorcas had muttered under her breath when she heard. Unfortunately, Alice was with Frank’s family for Christmas, and Ellie was with her family in Greece visiting her grandmother, so neither would be able to attend. Either way, Lily was relieved that it wasn’t going to be just her and the lads. She was nervous enough already. 

Although she wasn’t totally sure why. This wasn’t the first time she had spent time with Marauders by any means. Hell, it was just over a month ago that they’d all gone on that picnic together. She truly wasn’t sure what had come over her. 

(A thought niggled at the back of her mind concerning a pair of warm hazel eyes and a disheveled mop of hair but she chose to shove it back where it belonged.) 

Instead she took a deep breath and raised her hand to knock (“Finally,” muttered Dorcas, but Lily ignored her.). She had only managed to rap her knuckles against the door twice when the door was wrenched open to reveal a grinning James Potter. She noticed that he went a bit slack-jawed as he took her in, and she blushed (it was with pleasure, but at the time she thought it was simply embarrassment at being ogled). 

“You look like Christmas,” James breathed, taking in her emerald green blouse and flaming red hair held up in a ponytail. She blushed even more, twisting her clenched fists around the wine bottle’s neck nervously. He was wearing a ridiculous-looking sweater covered in prancing reindeer, and she noticed him anxiously pulling at the too-short sleeves. It looked like he had tried _very_ hard to get his hair to lie flat, there were patches of grease and shine from what must have been a half-dozen hair care products and even a few comb teeth that had broken off at some point, and Lily had to hold back a laugh. He just looked so very pleased with himself and his supposed ability to clean up nicely, and she didn’t want to break his spirit. Not this early in the evening, anyways. 

(Or at least that’s what she told herself she was thinking, because her thought process was going more along the lines of _holy hell when did he get so fit_ and that just wouldn’t do.)

“LILYBEAN!” Sirius bellowed, causing both of them to start and finally stop their staring contest (she heard Dorcas and Mary stifling giggles behind them and flipped them off behind her back). The wizard pushed past James, throwing his arms around the redhead in a suffocating hug, causing her to almost drop the wine bottle. “Moony, Lily’s here!” 

“I noticed,” Remus smirked from the doorway, peering over James’s shoulder, “How about you stop suffocating her and let her come in?” Lily shot the werewolf a thankful look as Sirius let her go and proceeded to drag her into the flat. “Happy Christmas Dorcas, Mary,” he nodded to the witches behind her, who had been sharing bemused looks.

“Happy Christmas, Remus,” Mary beamed back at him, “Thanks for having us!” She embraced first Remus, and then James, before following Lily into the flat, Dorcas sharing greetings as she trailed behind them. 

“And look Moony, she brought wine! What a woman!” Sirius shouted excitedly, grabbing the bottle from Lily and hurrying off to the kitchen to rummage through the drawers for a corkscrew. 

“He was worried you wouldn’t show,” Remus said quietly, sidling up next to her, “We all were.” 

Lily felt a pang of guilt. “I’ve decided that I think it’s time to put all of Hogwarts behind me,” she replied. 

It was true. She had honestly become sick and tired of holding the grudge. She missed Sirius and Remus too much, and even the bumbling mess that was Peter, and it just wasn’t worth the pain and effort when there was a fucking war on and she never knew when she might see them again. James was a git, sure, but Marlene was a bitch to her on a daily basis and she still loved her, so what was the difference?

( _Plus Potter was looking fit as hell and really, why was she mad at him again?_ ) 

“Hear hear!” James cried, coming up behind her and he raised the glass that Sirius had poured him, and she blushed a light pink, afraid that he had somehow become a Legilimens in the past minute. His hazel eyes met hers, and he gave Lily a meaningful look that made her stomach flip. 

She was utterly unsurprised when she caught sight of Marlene double-fisting with a glass of Scotch and a fresh glass of the Cabernet Lily had brought. “Getting the party started for the both of us, Marls?” she laughed, giving her friend a hug while simultaneously side-stepping any potential spills.

“My parents run a dry household, Lils, you know how it is,” the brunette witch replied with a long-suffering sigh, “Now, Sirius, where’s that smoke you promised- ah, there we go, lovely.” The last few words were garbled as Sirius stuck a cigarette between her lips. She grinned, comically holding the stick between her teeth. 

“Now aren’t you a pretty picture,” Benjy chuckled at her as he wrapped his arms around Lily from behind, “If only I had a camera, that’s one to show the grandkids.” Marlene pulled an amazing feat as she repositioned her hands around the glasses so that both of her middle fingers were standing up. Lily felt Benjy shaking with laughter, which caused her to join in with her own. 

“Did you get the owl I sent?” Sirius asked as he came up next to them, passing Lily a glass, “Please tell me you brought them.” 

“Of course! You did say it was a Grade Five emergency,” she replied with overexaggerated earnestness as she nodded, “I take those seriously.” 

“Isn’t Grade Five the non-emergency one?” Peter asked as he entered the room, hopping as he pulled his shoes on. 

Both Lily and Sirius paused and looked at each other. “You know, I’m not really sure…,” the redhead said uncertainly. 

“Doesn’t matter,” Sirius replied, waving his hand around as if to wave all of those confusing thoughts away, “All that matters is you brought them.” He looked her up and down, noticing that she only carried a small clutch with her. “I don’t suppose you’ve hidden them up your skirt?”

“Prat,” Lily said with a smack on his arm before she reached into her clutch and pulled out a large stack of records, “It’s Ever-Expanding. And _I’m_ supposed to be the Muggleborn.” 

Sirius ignored the jibe in lieu of a sigh of relief. “Thank Merlin,” he cried, dramatically releasing his breath, “The rest of the lads have shit taste in music, I don’t why I’m friends with them really, I’ve been slowly dying in here.” 

“I take offense at that,” Peter interjected indignantly.

The other three Marauders somehow managed to guffaw in unison even though they were spread out across the flat. “ _Especially_ you, Wormtail,” Sirius said, “If I have to hear Celestina Warbeck’s voice one more time-”

“How about you get something going then, Lily?” Remus interrupted with a weary look. It obviously wasn’t the first time he had heard this argument, and he seemed quite sick of it (even if it was obvious whose side he was on). 

“My pleasure,” Lily replied with a knowing smirk. She went to the beat-up old record player that sat on top of a cardboard box. ( _Really?_ she thought in exasperation. She knew for a fact that both James and Sirius were loaded, she had no idea why they had decided to live in squalor. Not that her puny set of rooms in the apartment were any better, quite possibly worse in fact, but at least she had the excuse of poverty to blame.) 

But her thoughts trailed off at the familiar scratch of the needle first hitting the record. _Oh, what I would give to be them in this moment,_ she thought wistfully as she surveyed the room before giving them all a big grin. At least she was there to watch it, to see the glory of them popping their musical cherry.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you: _Elvis Presley_.”

 

* * *

 

“ _Step in my rocket and don't be late, baby we're pullin' out about a half past eight!_ ” 

Lily and Mary shouted the lyrics, jumping up and down as Jackie Brenston serenaded them and shaking their hips at each other to the beat. Sirius was clumsily twirling a reluctant Remus around the space in the living room that they had cleared away to serve as a dance floor while Peter took a breather after the fierce Twist competition that Lily had roped him into and Benjy went off in search of more booze (it had taken a lot of liquid courage to garner this many enthusiastic dancers). James was doing his best to keep up with the strange interpretation of swing dancing that Marlene had adopted as she danced around him, Dorcas laughing at them into her wineglass. 

If he didn’t know any better, James could have believed that there wasn’t a war on. This room was filled with smiles and laughter, good booze and good music. This room was filled with _life_. 

They had all nearly forgotten how thrilling it was to live.

James stepped on Marlene’s feet for what must have been the twelfth time, distracted by a peal of laughter across the room. He had strived for the past ten years to coax that laughter out of those red lips (and had gotten better at it over the past couple months, true), and was simultaneously flaring with jealousy of whoever was the cause of it and thanking his lucky stars for getting the chance to hear it at all. He had never seen Lily this happy, at least not since at least sixth year. Her cheeks were flushed from two glasses of wine, and her eyes were sparkling like the star on top of the Christmas tree. He saw Benjy cut into her and Mary’s the dance, holding a glass of wine with one hand and Lily’s waist with the other as he guided her in a jitterbug that was completely off beat. 

“Oh James, you’re completely usesless!” Marlene cried after he stepped on her toes again, shoving him away and twirling towards Peter instead, who tried but failed to fight her off. Taller than him, she spun him round and round until he looked a bit green in the face. James moved to their kitchen island, whose laminated surface jutted out from their wall into the room awkwardly. He leaned against it next to Dorcas and took a swig of wine directly from the bottle, chuckling as Peter face-planted after tripping over his own feet. 

“That’s completely unsanitary, James,” Dorcas said to him in an exasperated tone. She had the best disapproving look, even better than Lily, James thought. When her hair was pulled back like it was now it showed off her sharp cheekbones and slightly slanted eyes, making her look like a vengeful goddess from one of those Greek mythology stories he had been forced to read in Muggle Studies. 

Despite how terrifying she could be, James simply shrugged as he let out a hiccup, “Can’t remember where I set my glass. Promise I’m clean, though.” 

Dorcas rolled her eyes in reply, and went back to sipping her glass. This left James able to go back to watching Lily (his very favorite pastime) as she taught Sirius how to do the hand-jive. “How in the world did Lily learn all of these weird dances?” he asked. He was more than a little jealous, truth be told. James had been strong-armed by his mother into taking dancing lessons when he was younger, better to prepare him for all of those holiday galas and charity balls that he would be obliged to attend as the heir of a prominent Pureblood family. But he had mostly learned how to waltz, as well as few other similarly painful dances that were far more boring than whatever Lily was doing with her hips at the moment.

“Her parents, I think. She told me once that they met at dance club when they were young, doing the Charleston. Her dad loved music, absolutely obsessed she said, that’s where she got all of her records from.” 

The music trailed off, and the redhead moved back to the record player, shuffling through her stack of records as the other witches and wizards switched partners in anticipation of the new song. Finding one that she liked, Lily switched out the records, replacing the needle as a syrupy-smooth voice began to croon.

 

“ _When your baby leaves you all alone_

_And nobody calls you on the phone_

_Doncha feel like crying_

_Doncha feel like crying_

_Well, here I am, my honey c’mon baby, cry to me…”_

She picked up her glass of wine and moved to the middle of the group. But instead of finding a partner, Lily closed her eyes and began swaying her hips to the purring voice and jazz-y beat.

 

“ _When you’re all alone in your lonely room_

_And there’s nothing but the smell of her perfume_

_Doncha feel like crying_

_Doncha feel like crying_

_Doncha feel like crying_

_C’mon baby, c’mon cry to me…”_

 

James was entranced. 

She danced like she was the only one in the room. Her painted red lips were mouthing the lyrics to a song that was evident she had heard a hundred times before, the tip of her tongue flicking at her lips as she enunciated every word. One hand had raised to her hair as she titled her head back, crimson tendrils fall from her ponytail to frame her face. When she twirled, her skirt flared up, revealing a tantalizing expanse of her porcelain legs. As her hips swayed to the music, James could see his hands moving with them, could feel them as they roamed her curves, inching towards the hem of her skirt…

 

“ _Nothing could be sadder than a glass of wine alone_

_Loneliness, loneliness, it’s just a waste of your time, oh yeah_

_But you don’t ever you don’t ever have to walk alone_

_You see, come take my hand, and baby, won’t you walk with me?_

_Whoa yeah…”_

 

His blood pulsed with desire.

 

“ _When you’re waiting for a voice to come_

_In the night there is no one_

_Doncha feel like crying (cry to me)_

_Doncha feel like crying (cry to me)_

_Don’t you feel like crying (cry to me) crying? (cry to me)_

_Don’t you feel like crying (cry to me) crying….”_

The song trailed off, and James was ready to run to the record player and start the song all over again if only to watch her dance for a moment longer. But Lily had already made her way back to it, switching the records out until Elvis Presley’s voice blared once again. Her wine sloshed as Sirius dragged her back to the dance floor, pulling her into an exaggerated and dramatic waltz as the Elvis sang about his burning love. 

“She’s coming round, you know,” said a voice, startling him. He had completely forgotten that Dorcas was next to him, said a quick prayer to Merlin that she hadn’t noticed the bulge at the front of his trousers. He was quickly distracted, though, as he took in her words. 

“What did you say?” he asked, knowing it was completely impossible that he had hallucinated the exchange. It had happened before. 

“I said she’s coming around. I don’t know what you did to change her mind, but she’s here tonight, which means she’s forgiven you. And Lily never forgives.” Her amber eyes did not reveal any judgment of her stubborn friend, though, just a kind of pensiveness. 

They both turned their eyes back on the dancing, observing the redheaded witch giggling uncontrollably as Sirius dipped her. James thought that the room shone five times brighter when she smiled, and the way all of the dancers revolved around her only reinforced that thought. 

“So you really think I have a chance?” he asked, his voice cracking, almost too afraid to even hope. Because he knew that Dorcas would be honest with him, brutally honest, not blindly faithful like any of the Marauders, or sugarcoat it the way Marlene or really any of the other girls would. Dorcas was direct; there was never any chance of misinterpreting what she said. 

So he felt more than a little giddy when the dark-skinned witch replied, “She sure as hell hasn’t realized it yet. But yeah, I think you do.”

At that moment Lily caught James looking, and instead of shooting him a glare like she usually did, she grinned and waved him over. He matched her grin and immediately began to move towards her, weaving his way through the other dancers. She shimmied at him as he came to stand in front of her, doing that little jump up and down ( _dammit dammit dammit_ , he thought desperately, trying not to look at her chest). And then she was putting arms around his neck and her hips were swaying to the music, tantalizingly close, and his body completely froze ( _shit shit shit),_ but just for a moment while his head finally caught up to what was happening, that this was _actually fucking happening,_ and he started moving his hands toward her hips, resting his hands on those curves he had _dreamed_ about… 

And then there was a loud knock on the door, and Sirius shouted “DINNER!” while Lily turned away from James to join in on the loud cheer that the whole room had erupted in. 

And the moment was lost. 

( _Dammit shit fuck goddamn Sirius.)_

 

* * *

 

“The game is Gryffindor’s Pride,” Sirius began, towering over them as he stood on a folding chair.

Cartons of Chinese takeout, one of the only places that was open on Christmas day, littered the floor, surrounding the young witches and wizards. (There weren’t enough chairs for all of them to sit so they had all elected to eat on the floor). Mary had told the four boys that they should have let her know they needed help with dinner and she could have cooked for them, making them look away sheepishly, but the takeout was pretty good anyways so nobody was complaining. Everyone having finished their meals, Sirius had explained that it was tradition to finish the evening with the Marauder’s favorite drinking game.

However, the four boys had made up the drinking game themselves and only they knew the rules, so Sirius was laying it out for them as best he could. 

“The floor is lava. You can only get around the room on the furniture.” The boys had brought in all the easily moved furniture from their bedrooms to fill up the bare-bones living room. “If you fall in the lava the Headmaster draws you a task from this-” he conjured a stack of worn, stained hand-made cards from stiff pieces of parchment, “-which you have to complete. Failure to complete a task results in detention. You can’t stay on the same piece of furniture for more than four and a half minutes, and no pushing until we hit the Quidditch level. Each person has to drink their way down a secret passage to get to the Sword of Gryffindor,” he gestured to folding table, which held four lines of shots, beers, and cups of mixed drinks that led to a bottle of tequila in the center. “Whoever gets to the Sword first wins. You get to drink by answering a trivia question from this pile-,” Another pile of card appeared in his hands, “And if you don’t get that right you can redeem yourself by picking a challenge card from this pile. We start out with beers, then move to mixed drinks and then shots the closer you get to the Sword.” 

Dorcas raised her hand. “Isn’t a task the exact same thing as a challenge?” she asked. 

“Ah, _no_ , they are _completely_ different things,” Sirius huffed (although the boys shot each other embarrassed looks. Apparently they hadn’t thought of that before), “See, they have two _separate_ piles.” The girls all rolled their eyes at this feeble reasoning. “Oh, and they are more level-specific too! See, I was right!” He grinned in triumph before continuing, “Anyways, there are about a billion other rules but we’ll just have to teach you as we go.” He surveyed the room thoughtfully for a moment before adding, “Looks like we have enough for Circe’s Rules, everyone pick a partner on three. Remus, you’ll be Headmaster?” 

The werewolf nodded, his face serious. 

“Wait, wait,” Lily interrupted, feeling her head spinning a bit from all the information, “Why is Remus Headmaster? And what exactly does he do?”

“Headmaster calls penalties, draws the cards, decides when to move onto the next level, and generally enforces the rules,” James explained to her, “And Remus is the most impartial of everyone so he will be the most fair.” 

“I hate all of you equally,” Remus nodded solemnly, earning him an elbow from Marlene.

“Okay, okay, enough explanations, let’s get started already!” Sirius interrupted impatiently, “Everyone pick your partner on one, two, three!” 

There was a brief moment of mass chaos as everyone tried to grab a partner. Lily immediately laced her arm with Marlene’s, while Mary and Dorcas latched onto each other. Sirius and Benjy stood next to each other, leaving a distressed-looking James with Peter. 

“Padfoot, you’ve betrayed me! I thought we were brothers!” James howled at his best friend. 

“Sorry Prongs, but everyone knows you’re a lightweight and I’m in it to win it this year,” he shrugged, unashamed. Lily had to suppress a laugh as the messy-haired wizard stomped over to his new partner, pouting like a child. 

Remus took Sirius’s place on the folding chair, tottering precariously for a moment before steadying himself, and conjuring a purple pointed hat onto his head that looked suspiciously like one of Dumbledore’s. “Okay everyone, grab a beer,” he commanded, and the three Marauders passed them out, warning, “Be ready to shotgun.” The other witches and wizards shot each other dubious looks, but turned their attention back to the Headmaster as he began in a grand, booming voice, “Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! Before we begin the feast, I have a few words to say: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Now, tuck in!” The three lads automatically pierced their beers cans and began chugging; sharing another look, the other witches and wizards followed. As soon as they had all finished, Remus’s voice boomed once again, “RED AND GOLD!” 

“GRYFFINDOR!” they all shouted, the old war cry from Quidditch matches, before scrambling to find a piece of furniture to stand on. 

And the game had begun.

 

* * *

  

An hour later, Benjy and Sirius were predictably in the lead, a mere five drinks away from the Sword, although Benjy was currently handicapped by having his hands tied behind his back as punishment for getting caught cheating during the History of Magic level. (Cheating was allowed, actually encouraged during Gryffindor’s Pride. As long as you didn’t get caught.) James was giggling uncontrollably after having to drink half a bottle of gigglewater for his task after slipping into the lava when he tried to jump from one of the folding chairs onto Remus’s bookshelf. Mary and Dorcas had surprised them all by having a remarkable alcohol tolerance; they were only slightly buzzed despite being in second place. They explained that it was a side effect of working in a bar (which made Lily a bit put-out, she had always attributed her stellar alcohol tolerance to sheer determination.)

They were currently on the Care of Magical Creature level, and Marlene was stripped down to her underwear after drawing the nymph card from the Magical Creatures-themed challenge pile. She had failed the trivia question, which was understandable because they had turned out to be more of questions about the opinions of the different Marauders about a random assortment of things. She had been asked who the fittest girl in Hogwarts was, and she had automatically named herself, of course. Unfortunately for her, that particular card had been written by James, so obviously ‘Lily Evans’ was the correct answer (which had made James and Lily both blush profusely). 

It was now up to Lily to get her and Marlene down the secret passageway and to their next drink. Marlene did not have much hope, though, because the stubborn redhead had refused to play along with the so-called trivia cards. 

“C’mon, Lils, we all know what they think the best class at Hogwarts is!” Marlene begged from her precarious perch on a bar stool, “We’re in last place, just swallow your pride for once in your pathetic little life!”

“It’s a matter of principle!” Lily shouted back from the card table that she was sitting on. She knew very well that the answer was Transfiguration, but she had argued with the boys all throughout school that Charms was the superior subject, and the smug looks on all of those bastards’ faces told her that she would never be able to live this down if she gave them the ‘correct’ answer. She drew up her best ‘fuck you’ look and answer primly, “The best class at Hogwarts is Charms.” 

“Noooooooo!,” Marlene groaned while the three Marauders booed at her loudly (Remus had maintained his air of professionalism, although Lily detected a hint of a smirk.) “Lily Evans, you are the worst partner ever and I hate you!” 

Lily blew a kiss at her in reply before she turned back to Remus, awaiting her challenge card.

The Headmaster pulled a card from the top of the set Magical Creatures card, but as he read it he his face twisted into a grimace. “Ugh, it’s the unicorn challenge,” he said in distaste.

The other Marauders groaned. “I don’t know why we haven’t gotten rid of that one,” Peter complained, “It’s a complete waste of a turn. No one ever wins it.”

“What’s the unicorn challenge?” Mary asked curiously, balancing on a pile of pillows.

“It’s so stupid, none of us has completed it for years. Not even Pete,” James said with a teasing grin. “Anyways, you know how unicorns only let virgins touch them? Well the challenge is to pet a unicorn, so you have to be a virgin to win the challenge. Hence, nobody of ever wins.”

Marlene’s face broke out into the most evil grin Lily had ever seen. “Don’t you dare, McKinnon, I will strangle you in your sleep-”

It was too late, though. “Lucky us, then, because Lily wins this challenge!” the brunette crowed, wiggling her hips in a victory dance.

There was more than one gasp in the room, and James let out a loud, “Holy _fuck,_ ” before he covered his mouth with his hand.

“Well, well, well,” Sirius said with a low whistle, “So ickle Lily is still a heavenly virgin? How cute.” 

“Fuck you, Black,” Lily snapped. Her face felt hot, like steam was coming off of it, and she knew she must be beet red. 

It was true that she was still a virgin. Sure, she’d dated plenty of guys who would have been more than willing, but she’d always stopped short of that last step. It’s not that she didn’t enjoy the physical aspect of a relationship, or was trying to keep herself pure until marriage or anything like that. It was purely a control thing. See, with everything else _she_ was still in control, was the one who made the decision of how she was touched and how far the guy went and even what he felt, too. _She_ had the power. The idea of giving herself up to a man, of letting him enter her, become a part of her, just felt too, well, _vulnerable_. And vulnerability was a feeling that Lily positively despised. 

(Which deep down she knew was a warning sign that she was psychologically at least a little fucked up, but she hadn’t had the time nor inclination to pursue that particular line of thought. It was much easier to just roll with it.)

“Well, Lilybean, I would be honored to pop your cherry,” Sirius drawled in reply before asking, “But really, how did that happen? I’ve seen you in and out of the bar with at least half a dozen guys this year alone.”

“That’s none of your goddamn business,” she snapped again, quickly growing tired of the subject, “I won the challenge, that’s all you need to know. Just pass me the drink, okay?” 

Sirius looked like he was going to argue the point, but Remus obliged, handing her the shot which she downed in one quick gulp (tequila, eurgh). The Headmaster quickly distracted everyone by announcing that they had officially moved onto the Potions level of the game (and Lily shot him a grateful look, which he replied to with a small smile). 

Everyone let out a loud groan upon the announcement. The Potions level consisted of a series of challenges that included drinking disgusting concoctions that Remus had mixed, many of them involving ingredients like horseradish and prune juice. He shouted, “RED AND GOLD!” once again to signal the start of the new level, but received only a half-hearted sigh of “Gryffindor,” in reply. 

After another half hour had passed, Marlene let out a loud whistle, drawing everyone’s attention. “Well, as fun as this has been, I really must be off,” she called to them all, stepping down from the beside table she had been precariously perched on as Lily gave out a cry of protest (she was really determined to win this game, dammit, ridiculous trivia aside), “I promised the little ones I would be home before ten to read them a bedtime story.” There was a loud chorus of boos, which she waved away as she picked up the pieces of her outfit that had been scattered all across the room. Sirius let out an extra loud boo as she put on her shirt. She turned to him with a smirk and mouthed _tomorrow_. He winked back, while everyone else groaned and James mimed vomiting. 

Peter hopped off the folding chair he had been standing on as well. “Et tu, Peter?” James gasped, clutching at his chest dramatically. 

“Promised Mum I’d be there when the Healer shift changed,” he mumbled with a blush. Everyone nodded in understanding, silently agreeing to not push it. 

“You all good to apparate?” Mary asked them both in a concerned tone. 

“You know me, liver of steel,” Marlene replied, patting her stomach appreciatively as she stepped into her trousers. Peter, however, looked a little unsteady on his feet. “And, erm, I’ll side-along Peter to St. Mungo’s.” She took his arm and steered the wizard towards the door, straightening him as he began to veer sideways. “See you all at the Order meeting on Friday, yeah? Happy Christmas!” 

A chorus of “Happy Christmas!” followed the two out the door, before they all turned their heads back towards Remus. 

“So, Headmaster, we have tragically lost two of our own. What shall we do now?” James asked with gallant formality, the giggles having finally subsided. 

“Hmm…,” Remus considered, “I rule that the two Lions leftover shall form a new team, and their passages combined.” 

“Oi! That’s not fair!” Lily protested as she watched Remus combined she and James’s line of drinks. Now they were eight drinks away from the Sword, far behind everyone else. 

“The Headmaster has ruled!” chorused Sirius, Benjy, Mary, and Dorcas. 

Lily glared at them, muttering angrily under her breath. 

“And,” Remus called again, quieting the room as he glanced at his watch, “We have now been playing for a total of one hundred and eighteen minutes, which means we have officially reached the Quidditch level. You are now free to topple your opponents using any means necessary. RED AND GOLD!” 

“GRYFFINDOR!” they all shouted again, recommencing the game. 

Belatedly, Lily remembered that she was currently holding onto Sirius, as they had both been balancing on a rickety footstool. He grinned down evilly at her, and promptly shoved her off. She fell on her bum with a bang and a yelp. “You twat!” she yelled at the laughing wizard, gearing up to run at him when she felt a hand on her arm.

“Don’t you dare get us a penalty Lily!” James shouted at her, “Let’s just take the task and get him back later.” 

Lily huffed at him and crossed her arms, but followed him as they stood before Remus. 

“What is our task, oh glorious Headmaster?” James said in a sickly sweet voice, causing Lily to giggle. 

“Flattery will get you nowhere Prongs,” Remus admonished in a disapproving tone, “I’m not going to help you cheat. You get the card you draw, those are the rules.” 

James stuck his tongue out at Remus, but reached out his hand to draw a card from the pile the other wizard was holding out towards him. Looking at the card, his face became stormy, and he let out a long stream of curses.

“What is it? What is it?” Lily pestered, hopping as she tried to look over his shoulder to read the card.

“We have to sing the Hogwarts School Song,” James said flatly.

“Well that seems easy enough,” Lily replied skeptically.

“I wasn’t finished. It has to be in the same tune.”

The room let out a gasp.

“But that’s impossible!” the redhead cried. The Hogwarts School Song had never been set to a tune, everyone just sang it however they wanted to. There were endless possibilities of how it could be sung. Which meant they had absolutely no chance of completing the task.

“I know,” James agreed miserably.

“No complaining, Prongs, you came up with that one!” Sirius jeered, “It’s karma! Take your punishment.”

Lily and James both groaned, but turned to face each other. James seemed to be trying to communicate something to Lily using just facial expressions, but she had no idea what he was trying to say and looked at him helplessy.

“Begin on three,” Remus instructed them, “One, two, three!”

 

“ _Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts_

_Teach us something please,_

_Whether we be old and bald,_

_Or young with scabby knees…”_

 

“Noooo!” Lily cried dramatically, while James sunk to his knees in defeat. She had sung it to the alphabet song, while he had sung it in to a tune she had never heard. “What the hell were you singing?!” the steaming redhead demanded, turning on her partner.

“ _The Lumos That Never Goes Out_ ,” he said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Lily looked at him blankly. “Seraphina Silversleeves? C’mon, everyone’s heard that one! It’s been played at least a dozen times a day on the radio every since wizards first started using them!”

The redhead looked at him in disbelief before pointing at herself and shouting, “Hello! Muggleborn!”

“Oh shit,” the wizard cursed.

“Enough squabbling, children,” Remus interrupted, “You have failed your task and earned yourselves a detention. You know what that means.” The rest of the witches and wizards looked at each other gleefully.

“TO THE DUNGEONS!”

 

* * *

 

“This isn’t fair!” Lily banged on the door as the lock clicked, “It’s all James’s fault, I shouldn’t have to be in here too!” There was nothing but silence. “At least give us our wands or keep the lights on or something!” 

“Filch Rules,” Remus’s muffled voice came through the door, “No lights, no wands, maximum misery. You’re in there until the Quidditch level is over.”

Lily slumped against the door in defeat, and let out a deep sigh. She immediately regretted it, though, as she tasted the pungent scent hung in the air of the closet they had been unceremoniously shoved into by their friends. The lads explained that Peter’s closet had been named the dungeon as it had been deemed the most disgusting room in the house. It also happened to be in the back bedroom, and they were far enough away that the two could only very faintly hear the shouts and laughter of the rest of the players.

It also happened to be very small. Unreasonably small, really, who had ever heard of such a small closet? How did Peter fit any of his things in here? Merlin, she and James could only just fit-

Lily closed her eyes and softly began to bang the back of her head against the door. Anything to distract her because she must have had too much to drink as all she think about was that there was approximately ten and a half inches between her and James and that was _not_ something she should be thinking about, and how was she supposed to deal with the fact that she could feel his warmth from where she stood?

With Lily’s eyes closed and her mind apparently somewhere in the clouds, James was given one of those rare moments where he could look at her, _really_ look at her, without worrying about getting caught staring.

Greedily, his eyes roved over her. Her red lipstick was smudged from the many cups and bottles that had been passed her way that night, and her hair had almost completely fallen from her ponytail, crimson locks curling against her shoulders. Her delicate emerald blouse had become un-tucked from her skirt, and the top two pearly buttons that ran down the front of it had come undone, revealing the dip of Lily’s cleavage and the edges of a white lacey bra.

James had no idea what to do. Every time he had felt this intense of an urge to go to her, to run his hands over her every curve and touch every centimeter of her heady skin, he had swiftly walked away. Actually, he usually ran, which had led to more than one awkward encounter of him rushing off in the middle of a conversation (or halfway through a Transfiguration that one lesson) and had not helped his case at all with getting Lily to think of him as a normal, functioning human being. See, he was unwilling to test the limits of his control around her because he wasn’t quite sure he had any to begin with. 

And all he could think about was _holy fuck she’s a virgin_ , which wasn’t that big of a deal except _what if he was the first one to touch her like that_ and he couldn’t stop picturing it, couldn’t stop thinking of what it would feel like and how _fucking tight_ she would be… 

And now he was stuck in this too small closet _(he might actually gift Peter with an expansion charm for it if he survived the bloody night)_ and he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the way her breasts swelled with every breathe and all he could think was, _Oh Merlin, I’m fucked._  

“James, how long do you think-” 

He was startled by the suddenness of her voice, and wasn’t able to hide the intense desire on his face before she had opened her eyes on him again, the question dying on her lips and her eyes widening as she took in his expression.

She looked like a deer in the headlights.

(And James was going through a list of deities in his head to curse because for the life of him he _could not look away._ )

Lily felt her heart drop into her stomach, hell, all the way down to her bloody toes as she took in the hunger in his eyes. He had always been so easy to read, like a book really, and in that moment she was reading a dozen dirty details that should have made her want to slap him but instead sent a cool shiver down her spine. She felt the little hairs on the back of her neck stand straight up, like they did before lighting struck.

James watched her pupils dilate and heard her breath hitch, and his body screamed at him to go to her, that with literally _any_ other girl the way she was looking at him right then was a clear message that she wanted it just as bad as he did, that she wanted _him_. But this was _Lily fucking Evans_ and he had never been able to read her, and he could _not_ fuck this up.

So neither of them moved, and the only sound in the room was that of their breath mixing together.

And suddenly like a flash of lightning they were crashing together, lips insistently, greedily moving over each other, and James felt his heart thudding so hard against his chest his ribs ached. Her hands were on his chest, twisting his sweater in her fists and _oh fuck why did I wear this idiotic sweater_ but it didn’t matter because one of his hands was knotted in her hair which was so much softer than he had imagined, and the other was _fucking finally_ on her hip, snaking around her waist as he pushed her against the closet door with a dull thud. Her hands moved up to the back of his nape, twisting into the tender curls and causing a shiver to pass through him, and she stood up on her toes to match the kiss, opening her mouth just enough to let his tongue slide past and _holy shit_ she tasted amazing, like the booze, sure, but something sweet, too, that his muddled mind just couldn’t place. 

And for Lily, the moment their lips had touched time absolutely fucking _stopped_ because she had never been kissed like that before, like she was the most beautiful girl in the room. (And sure, she knew she was in a bloody disgusting closet but _goddammit_ she felt like Cinderella so go fuck yourself.) James pinned her against the door, and with Lily on her tiptoes they were lined up _just there_ and she could feel his cock straining against his trousers, rubbing against the fabric of her skirt and she nearly melted right then and there. But James wasn’t going to let her go so easily, and he cupped her arse to pull her right up against him, to _feel_ him, and she felt herself moan into his lips. 

James was lucky he didn’t cream himself right then and there because _holy fuck she had just moaned for him,_ the daydream of that sound alone had accounted for at least a third of all of his wanks fifth year (and a still embarrassing eighth of them nowadays), and he couldn’t help himself, he bucked his hips against hers, dying to bury himself in her. She rewarded him with another moan, forced himself to tear his lips away from hers, down to her neck, because he _needed_ to hear that sound out loud, he was sure he could die happy then. So he suckled and nipped at the hollow right below her ear and squeezed her fine, fine arse against him again, grinding against her until he heard a gasping, “ _Oh!”_ He swore he had never been harder in his entire life. 

Deciding that he was officially living in a fantasyland, James decided to fulfill one of his teenage fantasies, and began clumsily unbuttoning her blouse. He nuzzled into her neck as he undid the last button, letting out an unsteady breath as covered one of her breasts with his hand and _holy shit_ her tits felt amazing, a perfect handful straining against the white lace. 

If Lily had been in her right mind she would have been embarrassed; she had always been a quiet lover and made fun of those try-hard girls who squealed like porn stars when getting laid, but now she was eating her words as James pulled the cup of her bra down and ran his thumb over her taut nipple and she _purrrred_. She tugged at his hair, dragging his lips back to her so she could plunge her tongue into his mouth, trying her best to communicate with her body that _need_ that had pooled in her stomach because she sure as hell didn’t have the words to, and she thought she was going a diagnosable, institutionalize-able _insane_. 

So she hitched up her leg around his hip, praying he wasn’t too goddamn thick to get _that_ message, and she smiled smugly against his lips when he let out a groan, a deep rumble that began in his chest and seemed to grant him power because he was thrusting against her with new fervor, lifting her up off her toes as her back slammed against the door. 

James knew she was teasing him, the minx, could taste that stupid smug smile on her face as she moved her hips against him, the same sexy sway that had entranced him on the dance floor. And he could have let her run the show all day when he thrust _right there_ and she started running her nails up and down his back, but he wanted her to want him the same way, wanted to hear her moan his name, scream it. So he moved his hand to her thigh, the one hitched around his hip, and started playing with them hemline of her skirt, inching higher and higher… 

And Lily froze. Brain completely shut down, a whitewash, no two thoughts to rub together. All she could sense was her heartbeat, ticking the time away as she felt him moving closer and closer. He had moved his lips to her neck again, and she could feel that he had stolen her smirk, damn him, and she wanted to smack it off his lips, or kiss it off him, either way she was plotting revenge, but then he way toying with her knickers and she didn’t realize she had been holding her breath until he cupped the front of them and she let out a deep sigh of 

“ _Jaaammmeeesss….”_

And James was groaning, a deep guttural sound, because _fuck_ she was wet and he absolutely could not _fucking believe_ he was touching her, that this was real, that he was cupping her pussy and she was moaning his name, and he was doing the best to capture this moment in his mind, to remember how she wet and warm felt under his hand, and he found he was mumbling her name over and over again into her neck 

“ _Lilylilylilylily…”_

Suddenly a burst of light shone through the room, and both James and Lily toppled over in surprise, taking half of the closet down with them and hurriedly straightening their clothing, sure that their friends had just walked in on them. 

But the closet door was still closed. 

And instead a silvery tabby cat stood in front of them, and McGonnagal’s voice rang out. 

And Lily couldn’t understand what was being said because she was suddenly hyperventilating too hard, and there was a ringing in James’s ears as his heart thudded out of his chest, and somewhere in the distance there was a shrill scream. 

“ _The Ministry has fallen. The McKinnons and Prewetts are dead. All Order members should return to their posts immediately.”_  

And in the course of a minute, the world had ended.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (imsorryimsorryimsorryimsorry)


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this one is a bit short, I decided I needed to balance things out after the monster that was chapter ten (Over ten thousand words! Yeah, sorry about that.) This chapter was agony to write, I cried more than once while writing it. (But I am also incredibly stressed and sleep deprived because finals so that could have something to do with it.) Things are going to be a bit gloomy from here on out, it is a war after all, but I will try to infuse some happy moments (just not in this chapter, sorry folks). Anyways, please don’t hate me for this chapter because I love each and every one of you readers, especially the reviewers!

11.

 

Cries of agony and screams of pain echoed across the pub. Lily was applying pressure to a wound on a man she did not know while blood poured out of it, staining one of her pale hands and creating a puddle on the floor. With the other hand she was using her wand to draw out the shards of metal and glass that had buried themselves in a young girl she thought she had seen at Hogwarts before, maybe a Hufflepuff; her skin was spotted with burns and cuts from the blast that had destroyed her house and her family, and she cried and cried into Lily’s shoulder. A middle-aged woman screamed at the redhead while she leaned over her dead husband, glassy eyes still open from the _Avada Kedavra_ that had killed him, telling Lily she had to _do more_ , _do better,_ _save him._ And Lily was shouting at Mary and Remus, directing them on where to put the bodies of the living, the dying, the dead.

It was chaos.

And Lily felt all alone.

 

* * *

 

It had taken a minute for Lily and James to process what the patronus had told them, to get their shit together. And then James was kicking down the door, and Lily was running to the living room, running towards the shrieks and the sobs.

Her heart plummeted to her feet when she saw Dorcas, strong and cold as steel Dorcas Meadowes, crumpled on the ground, a letter in her hand as she sobbed, sobbed, sobbed. Lily immediately dropped to her knees, pulling the crying witch into her arms and latching onto her with a surprising amount of strength. The redhead had seen this kind of pain before (had felt it not so long ago) and so she held on tight to her friend as her body shook with the force of her sobs, murmuring _“Breathe, breathe, don’t forget to breathe”._ She gently pulled the letter from Dorcas’s grasp, reading:

 

_Ms. Dorcas Meadowes_

_We regret to inform you that at 10:22pm this evening, Genevieve and Damian Meadowes were found dead in their home. An investigation is currently pending as to the cause of death. You may come to offices of Wizengamot Admisitration Services to collect their belongings and request a reading of their will at your earliest convenience._

_Sincerely,_

_Coriander Demance_

_Department of Wizengamot Administration Services_

 

Lily’s heart felt like it was being squeezed, constricted, it hurt to breath. _Pending investigation my arse_ , she thought bitterly. In her mind, there was little question as to the cause of death. If the Ministry had fallen, if Voldemort had directed attacks on prominent blood traitor families, then it was obvious. They had been murdered. And she knew, without a doubt, that Dorcas was blaming herself right now.

And she hated herself for it, but Lily needed Dorcas to _snap out of it_ because if that many attacks had taken place tonight then the Safe House would be filled to the brim with the survivors, and she _needed_ Dorcas. 

“Mary, I need you to apparate Dorcas back to the safe house,” Lily directed the blonde witch, who had been silently crying in the corner, “Take her to her room, and put her in the shower. Turn it on full blast, freezing cold. She should be fine in five minutes. Then I need you both on the floor, it’s going to be a long night.” The blonde witch gave her a blank stare, tears dripping down her face, and Lily wondered if she understood what she had said. But with a blink of her owlish eyes, she snapped into focus and did as Lily said, silently taking Dorcas from the redhead’s arms and disappearing with a loud pop.

Now the redhead turned to the boys, who were holding back a screaming Sirius; he was surrounded by splinters of destroyed furniture, and was fighting against his friends arms, looking as if he wanted to take a swing at them. Lily straightened her back, steeling herself, and walked straight up to him, slapping him hard across the face.

“Lily!” James angrily protested, horrified at her abuse, and the others glared at her resentfully, but she ignored them.

“Sirius Black, I need you to calm down _right now_ ,” she hissed, and he looked down at her murderously. But he seemed to be listening. Good. “Marlene is dead. Marlene is _fucking dead,_ buried in the ground, and there is _nothing_ you can do about it, But do you know who is not dead? Dozens of the Death Eaters who killed her. And right now you are going to join up with the Order, your Auror unit, whatever, and do you know what you are going to do? You are going to _kill those motherfuckers_. _Every. Single. One._ Is that clear?” Lily looked him hard in the face, nearly nose to nose as he snarled at her. She saw his eyes blazing with fury, but this time she could tell it was not directed at her. And she knew Sirius had gotten the message.

Lily looked at the other boys. “You can let him go now,” she instructed them, and they gave her a dubious look but did as she said. Sirius apparated instantly, and she knew he was off to join the fray. _Good_ , she thought, her heart on fire, turning to ash inside of her. _Let them all burn_.

“Now you two,” she said, looking at first Peter and then Remus, “You need to go to Inverness. It’s going to be swamped with refugees and the survivors, and I’m going to need every wand available. Go ahead of me, I’ll be there in a moment.” The two boys seemed to be in shock at her cool, composed, almost cruel exterior, but seemed to decide it was either not worth the fight (or too frightening) to question her. In the blink of an eye, the two wizards were gone.

Lily turned to face the wall now. With all of them gone, she felt the panic attack coming on, crawling up her spine like a disease, climbing, climbing. It was hurting, hurting to breathe, hurting to feel the air on her skin, hurting to feel the blood moving through her veins, it _hurt hurt hurt._ One painful sob escaped her lips, making her whole body shudder and shake, making her lungs _burn_. One single sob.

And she knew that was the only one she would allow herself that night. She swallowed the rest of the tears down, swallowed down all of the pain and the fear, crushing it into a ball and pushing it into a box, which she wrapped nicely with a bow before she shoved it in the back of her mind.

The next breath she took was cool, clear, effortless.

She turned back around and saw James watching her. She had forgotten he was there. And she hated that he had seen that, had seen her break, but she was fine now, she had lathered that crack with a new layer of concrete, was smooth and whole again. So why was he staring?

“You okay, Evans?” James asked cautiously, watching her as if she was a starving animal, like she could lash out at any moment.

“Never better,” she said with a cool smile, “You should get back to your Auror squad, make sure that Moody is still running things.”

He reached out and touched her arm with his hand, and it burned against her because _she didn’t need it she was fine_ and she shook him off, but still he asked insistently with a concerned look on his face, “Are you sure you’re fine, Lils?”

She hated that look in his eyes, that _pity_ , like he expected her to just fall apart in front of him, so she snapped, “I’m fine, _Potter_. You need to get a move on, now _go._ ”

He watched her hesitantly, and she knew that he wouldn’t be the first one to leave, that if he had his way he would never leave her. But the war was so much more important than this, than them, so she took a step back and prepared to apparate.

“See you later, Evans?” he said (and she could tell it was a real question, that he was pleading with her, but she couldn’t take that _look_ in his eyes for one second longer.) 

She apparated away, without a reply.

Saying goodbye felt like bad luck.

 

* * *

 

The empty pub was eerily quiet. It was a new moon, and the bar was cast in a blue light that seemed to suffocate the room, snuffing out every light. Blood stains, some still fresh, streaked across the wooden floor next to abandoned medical supplies where they had set up triage. There was a dusting of glass, shattered when the crowds had surged into the pub and crushed underfoot. Furniture has been upturned, and the mirror behind the bar was cracked.

In the middle of this chaos sat Lily Evans.

Her legs were pulled up to her chest, her arms wrapped tightly around as she rested her head against her knees. Her hair was wet, plastered against her blood-stained, destroyed green blouse, soaking from the pouring rain that she had encountered outside as she pulled in the last of the straggling survivors into the Safe House. Her dark circles resembled black eyes, her only battle scars from the horrors of that night.

She still hadn’t cried.

She hated herself. She hated herself for every dead body that had been brought to the safe house. For every body that was too destroyed to recover, to piece back together. For the ones that died in her arms as she drowned, drowned in the tearful pleas of the mothers and puddles of blood that pooled underneath their screaming children. For every one that she couldn’t save, that she should have saved. 

She wondered if she tried real hard, she could just stop breathing. Let that enormous weight that had settled on her chest crush her, once and for all. Just take one last deep breath, and let the silence that banged against her eardrums as loud as drums and the darkness that had trapped her, immobilized her, let it all just slowly suffocate her. Let her light fade, like a waning candle. Burnt out. 

But then there was a click as the door to the pub and Lily jumped to her feet, wand at the ready even as she wondered if she should just lower it, just take whatever punishment came. But there were still dozens of people upstairs, struggling with every breath to survive, and Lily couldn’t fail them again. 

“STUPEFY!” she shouted before the mysterious figure even made it through the doorway But the figure dove to the side and the red lightning shattered one of the stained-glass lamps that lined the walls instead.

“Stop it, Lily! Merlin, it’s me! James!” the messy-haired wizard cried as Lily raised her wand to strike again, already back on his feet with his own wand up, ready to cast a shield if necessary.

There were spider-web fractures all over his spectacle lenses, matching the crisscross of hurriedly healed cuts that marked every visible stretch of skin on his body. His nose had gone crooked, like he had broken it but hadn’t the time to set it properly before he healed it. His skin had gone a shade darker from dirt and dust that had accumulated over the past seventy-two hours, although Lily could see the tell-tale tracks marks of dried tears running down his cheeks.

It was the first time they had seen each other since that night. Sure, there had been a flash of red here and a glint of a certain set of spectacles there, but the witch and wizard had barely had time to breathe over the three days, let alone catch up.

(But they had been searching, always searching, searching to know the other was safe. 

And Lily felt like crumpling, falling into his arms and shattering and letting him put her pieces back together because Merlin knew she couldn’t. 

And James wanted to run to her, to grab her, to kiss her and never stop because the world had ended and that girl, that girl standing right in front of him, was the only good thing left.

He started to move towards her, and Lily almost let him, felt every bone in her body begin to crack because she couldn’t hold on anymore, couldn’t hold it in, and she knew _he_ would take care of her because she was Lily and he was James and that’s the way it was meant to be. 

But instead of falling apart, she felt a molten lava flow through her, burning with anger and rage and pain, scorching away every happy thought she had ever had until it cooled and hardened, settling on top of those quaking bones like reinforced steel, like armor. 

And Lily raised her wand.

“Don’t you dare take another step,” she spat, and James stopped cold. His eyes were owlish as he regarded the wand trained at him disbelievingly.

“Lily, what are you doing-,” he tried as he lifted a foot to move closer.

“I _said_ stay back!” she screeched, her eyes wild.

“What the hell’s going on, Lily?” he pleaded, “What’s your problem?” His face was full of hurt, hazel eyes watching her shaking hand as she held her wand, full of disbelief (and it made her _sick_ but she had to, she had to, she couldn’t take it, she had to).

“ _You_ are my problem! _You_ have been my problem every single bloody day since I first stepped onto that goddamn train! Why can’t you just leave me the fuck alone?!” she asked, begged, cried. “Those people, all those people, if only, my wards…” she trailed off glassily for a moment ( _no no no!_ she screamed inside) before fixing her raging stare back on the wizard, “If you hadn’t always been coming round, panting after me like some pathetic dog, if you’d just _backed the fuck off_ like I kept _telling_ you to I could have figured out my wards! I could have saved them! I could have saved her…” Neither of them needed to say who she was talking about; the pain in their eyes mirrored each other.

But that just made Lily angrier. She had spent three days, that silly party dress she had been wearing soaked through with the tears of dozens of mourning family members. She had rubbed their backs and held their hands, told them over and over again that it would be alright. She had comforted all of those people even as she was sliced open with pain with every breath she took because her heart had fucking _shattered_ and the jagged pieces were piercing her lungs.

She had put everyone’s hurt above her own. She hadn’t been given one single _fucking second_ to mourn her best friend, and now here was bloody fucking _James Potter_ , eyes all glassy with tears but _no_ it was _her_ time, _she_ was the only one could feel the hurt right now, _she_ was the only one allowed to cry.

And this hurt built and built in her chest until it burst through with a shout of, “It’s all your bloody fault!”

The words hovered between them for a moment, each of them staring disbelievingly at the other.

And then James’s face twisted into an ugly mask of rage and he was shouting right back, “ _My bloody fault?_ I’m not the one whose fancy, overcomplicated mess of wards fell! I’m not the one who fucked around instead of figuring out how to make them better! And _I’m_ the one who helped you figure out how to anchor them in the first place because you couldn’t fucking figure it out yourself! So don’t you turn this around on me, Evans, don’t you fucking dare, because I may have been panting after your frigid little arse but _I_ still managed to _do my bloody job!_ ”

Their breaths were out in quick puffs of air, visible in the icy room. Their eyes were locked on each other, wands still raised, arms dangerously tensed. Neither dared to blink.

And then with a swirl of his cloak, James turned on his heel and stormed out of the pub, the door thudding so loud behind him that she was surprised it didn’t come off its hinges.

Lily wondered if this was the moment when it would all come crashing down around her, when she would finally break down and cry, cry for her best friend and the countless others that rested in dozens of rooms upstairs, waiting to be buried. Cry for her broken world, torn apart by the war that had finally come crashing against her doorstep. 

But instead she found herself walking to the broom cupboard, and pulling out a bucket of cleaning supplies. And then she was on her hands and knees, scrubbing slowly, deliberately at the bloodstains that had soaked into the scratched wooden floors. She did not cry. Instead, she set herself to work. 

And Lily wondered if that wasn’t worse.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends! Thank you for all of the lovely reviews, I've been having a difficult time writing the next couple of chapters, and they have just been so encouraging! This chapter took me forever to write, I rewrote it at least a dozen times but I think I am content with how it turned out. I would love to hear what you think, as well as what you might like to see from this story in the future? (Like characters you would like to see more, etc.) I really do take all of your constructive criticism into account when I write! Anyways, thank you all for reading! I hope you enjoy!

12.

 

_James was wading through the ankle-high sea of ashes, the remains of yet another burnt down house, trying to find a clue as to what had happened, what had caused this kind of destruction. It was pitch black out, so dark that he could not see more than a foot in front of him despite his Lumos. He could taste the ash on the air, and it was clogging up his lungs, making it hard to breathe._

_Suddenly he stumbled, falling into the ash with an explosion of powder around him. He lost his wand, and patted through the ash in a panic trying to find it. One hand found the wand, but the other hand brushed against something else, the thing he had stumbled upon. James felt a deep sense of forboding in his stomach, his brain was shouting at him to leave it, to run away, but he raised his lit wand anyways to see what was hiding beneath the heavy dust. He brushed away the powder, and felt his stomach jump into his throat. Crimson curls wound their way through the ash, standing out like a flame in the dark. James felt like he was going to be sick. It was Lily, lying there not moving, not breathing, glassy green eyes staring up at him while her mouth opened in a silent scream that would never come…_

James shot straight up, panting heavily under his sweat-soaked sheets. He was panicked for a moment at the unfamiliarity of his surroundings before it all came rushing back to him. They had moved from their London flat into the Inverness Safe House late last night, the lads and him, upon Dumbledore’s request. The Headmaster wanted to keep the Order close at hand, in case another large-scale attack like that night happened again. 

84 dead. (And his mind whispered Marlene McKinnon, Fabian Prewett, Angus Fletcher, the McKinnons, the Meadowes, the Prewetts, as if it were some sick prayer…)

46 wounded. (Gideon Prewett, Emmeline Vance, Elphias Doge…)

24 missing. (Caradoc Dearborn, Seraphina Boot…)

They were calling it Sancta Nox, the Silent Night Massacre.

James wished he could shake off the dream, but the sick feeling in his stomach wouldn’t abate. The problem was, it wasn’t just a nightmare.

It was the Prewett home, the one he had been wading through on Sancta Nox, the night that haunted his sleep. Just like in the dream, he had clumsily shuffled through the ashes, tripping over something and falling. When he brushed the ash off the lump on the ground, he had found a body, so badly burnt that most of the skin had peeled away. He couldn’t even tell if it was male or female. 

James had stumbled out of the ruins of the house and been violently sick in the bushes.

He didn’t think he would ever get the image of that destroyed body out of his mind. 

It was not long after that, however, that they had found the first survivor of the night. Gideon Prewett had also been buried in the ashes, covered by horrific burns and unconscious, but somehow still alive. Kingsley Shacklebolt, a serious young man on James’s Auror team, suspected that someone had cast a protection spell on him before their wands were confiscated by the Death Eaters.

(It looked like they had left them to be burned alive.)

But Gideon had survived, and it was a miracle, on that horrific night _any_ sign of life was a miracle, and James had sent the scalded man to Lily. He knew she would take care of him, would sort him past just the Healing spells and salves, would help him in a way no one else could…

What most frustrated James while he searched the grounds of a dozen houses just like the Prewett’s was he knew it was pointless. No evidence had survived the fire; nothing was supposed to. After all, the Death Eaters had murder down to a science. They never left a trace.

James felt useless. 

Despite Voldemort toppling Eugenia Jenkins as Minister of Magic and placing the puppet Harold Minchum in her place, it seemed to be business as usual at the Ministry. Moody told James that Voldemort was trying to show all of the purebloods that the government he planned to put in place was truly superior, would be fair to those wizards who he deemed as deserving, would keep his selected (and extremely powerful) few safe.

The only noticeably jarring change that occurred during the Ministry takeover was the creation of the Department of Muggleborn Affairs, and the introduction of the Muggleborn Registration Act. With this Act, all Muggleborn were required to register their wands with the Ministry, providing their names, their home address, and a family history. They had to undergo a series of tests to prove their magical abilities, to evaluate if they were worthy of a wand. And, upon tentative approval that could be revoked at any given moment, the registered witches and wizards were issued a silver armband, spelled to mold to their body and stay attached unless a certified Magical Law Enforcement officer removed it.

It was a farce, James knew, a way to corral all of the Muggleborns together. Tagging them, as if they were cattle (and he knew that they, like cattle, were being led to slaughter). If a Muggleborn witch or wizard refused these proceedings, their wand was snapped and they were sent to Azkaban. Or worse.

James had wanted to quit the Aurory right then and there, fuck the Ministry and go work for the Order full-time. But Dumbledore had forbidden him, saying they need people in the Ministry, that he could fight just as hard from the inside, maybe even more so. So he stayed.

Naturally, Dumbledore turned out to be right. Sirius and James were able to steal the records that the Ministry had been secretly keeping of all the known Muggleborns right out from under their noses. They spread them to the Order, and spent the next three days apparating around to each of the homes listed, trying to warn all of the Muggleborns. Many of them were already dead when the various Order members arrived, but most of them were still alive and James and the lot were able to send them packing to various Safe Houses across the country. He would guess they had probably evacuated around two hundred people, including the Muggleborns’ families. Enough that many of the Safe Houses started sending owls saying that they had no more room, that they couldn’t take in any more refugees.

(He never got such an owl from Inverness, and he was secretly proud.)

Things had moved quickly through the secret network of spies and allies surrounding the Order of the Phoenix, and a kind of refugee evacuation system was worked out. They smuggled Muggleborns and their families, even halfbloods and “blood traitor” families sometimes, from Safe House to Safe House, ally to ally, until they were off the island, heading to the mainland or sometimes all the way across the pond to America. Anywhere they could be safe from Voldemort, where they could be free. Lily called it the Underground Railroad (and she had tried to explain how it was a reference to how slaves in America had escaped to freedom through a similar network but he still didn’t understand how it could be a railroad if there were no trains involved and she had given up).

Lily.

That was another thing that had changed that night. Lily had finally cracked, James thought, absolutely lost her marbles. Merlin, the memory of their fight still felt surreal. It felt like it existed in another dimension.

He knew he had crossed the line. The way she looked at him since that night, the way she talked to him, so coolly detached (when he was used to fire and fury) told him that whatever had been growing between them was done.

Well, he was done with her, too. Marlene had been _his_ friend long before she had been Lily’s, and it had hit him just as hard. He was just as broken over that night. Just thinking about the things she had said, the way she blamed him, made him want to punch a wall.

(Yet, still, he worried about her because her eyes looked blank and he hadn’t seen her smile once since the Christmas party and he thought she had stopped eating.)

But Lily Evans had made it perfectly clear that that wasn’t his business any longer. That _she_ wasn’t his business any longer.

And he was fine with that, because he was still _fucking pissed_ at her and he knew she wouldn’t ever apologize. He was fine with it, really, better off without her. There was enough going on without having to worry about a manic redhead on top of it all.

(Then why couldn’t he stop thinking about that kiss that had turned into so much more and it was killing him killing him killing him)

James wrenched himself out of bed (he had realized that he needed to keep moving, keep busy, because being alone with his thoughts was never a good thing). All of his things were in his old school trunk, shrunk down to fit. He flipped it open and waved his wand, drawing the items out and resizing them before having them align themselves in his new room. He had left most of his nice Potter Manor furniture; there had been only one room left when he got to the Safe House at around five in the morning, later than the rest of the Marauders, and it also happened to be the smallest. He was down to the bare necessities (which was a bit of an unusual and uncomfortable transition for a trust fund baby like him), simply a bed, a dresser, and a desk. He started digging through the dresser that had returned to full-size with a loud _pop!_ for something to wear.

Black. Black was an easy color to find in a wizard’s wardrobe, it made up at least seventy percent of it. _No wonder there are so many Muggle stereotypes about scary witches and wizards_ , James thought absently as he stepped into his trousers, tucking in his nicest white button-down and clumsily knotting his tie. He picked out his nicest set of dressrobes and shouldered them on. He looked at himself in the warped bathroom mirror (there wasn’t really anything to be done about the hair, but other than that he cleaned up nicely) before making his way to the door, ready to leave.

The moment he opened the door, though, he found Lily’s doe eyes staring back at him.

For a second he was confused as to why she was there, standing in the doorway of the room directly across the hall as if she had just tried to exit as well, but then the realization hit him. “Shit, Lil-er, Evans, sorry, it was the only room left and I came in at five in the morning and completely forgot that your room was on this hall-”

“It’s fine,” she said quietly, calmly, coolly (his least favorite adjectives, which he found himself applying to Lily more and more as the days went by), “Really, it’s fine.”

He didn’t say anything, instead taking a moment to steal a look at her. She had been hiding away more and more recently, always locked away with her books (he felt a pang of guilt because he knew what she was doing in there, that he was half the reason she was working herself to death trying to fix her wards), and he hadn’t gotten the chance to see her in awhile. (Not that he wanted to, but he didn’t _not_ want to either.) She was wearing black, same as him, and her crimson curls were pulled back in a somber bun. Her face looked hollow, and pale, too pale. Her eyes were glassy, unfocused (which they always were these days, James did his best to avoid them). She was looking thin all over, almost brittle.

(It scared him a little.)

“Anything you need, Potter?” she asked pointedly, noticing his staring. For once, he really didn’t care that she had caught him. He didn’t care what she thought about him at all.

(As long as she thought about him still, he deserved that much.)

“Just wondering if you wanted to floo over with me?”

(They both knew it was a lie. He didn’t want her to go with him, and she didn’t want to either.)

“I forgot to put on my lipstick,” she said vacantly (one of the worst excuses he had ever heard, he could see her painted lips plain as day from where he stood), “I’ll just see you there, I guess.”

He nodded, and she closed the door. They played this game a lot these days, polite words with hidden meanings. It was winding him up, not being able to say what he meant, driving him absolutely insane. But they still had to work together in the Order, nearly every day now. There was too much at stake to have another blowout; he wasn’t about to risk _lives_ over some girl.

(She wasn’t some girl, she never had been, but James had to pretend or he would just be destroyed.)

So James pretended that Lily was putting on lipstick, and Lily counted back from three hundred on the other side of the door, and they stepped through the green fire in the pub’s kitchen fireplace exactly five minutes apart.

 

* * *

 

That week, for Lily, was marked by a series of funerals. Her failures, all lined up in neat order on her precise calendar.

How convenient.

On Monday it was the McKinnon funeral. 

Lily had stood next to Sirius, holding his hand as he shook with poorly suppressed tears in front of the line of seven coffins. 

(The last two were just _so small_.)

James was holding his other hand, but their eyes did not meet over their friend’s shoulder, not even once.

Ellie cried into her other shoulder while Alice leaned into Frank and Mary clung to Dorcas. There were many nice words said, funny stories told, speeches made about them being “taken too soon” and how “justice would prevail”.

Lily hardly heard a word of it.

And then the seven coffins were lowered into this large gaping hole in the ground, a putrid gash in the earth’s flesh, and people were throwing dirt on them and suddenly it was all over.

The gathering of mourners began shuffling around as the service ended, and Lily caught snatches of conversation here and there. There was a lot of muttering over how long it had taken to get the funeral together; it was nearly three weeks to the day. But with half the Ministry shut down, and a travel ban in place while the shift of leadership took place (although she suspected this had a lot more to do with trying to stop the flood of refugees that had been attempting to get out of the country after Sancta Nox) it had been nearly impossible to arrange. Not to mention that everyone working in the Order had not had a moment to breathe, trying to keep so many people safe and understand all the implications of the new leadership. Thank Merlin for wizarding cryonics spells.

A few paces away from her, Lily heard two Ministry officials talking about the murders, saying that the Aurors had apparently caught a Death Eater witness and gotten him to talk before Voldemort’s lackeys had taken him away. The witness said that he was after something that Marlene had taken, had confiscated during one of her raids, some sort of jewelry. Voldemort came to her personally, demanding where she had taken it, torturing her even though she insisted she had no idea where it had disappeared to. Then he had killed her family in front of her, one by one, starting with her parents and ending with little Delilah, who was only three years old and practically still a baby.

And then he had killed her, too.

Lily heard everything, but did not really listen to a single word. Did not take any of it in. She was at full capacity for misery, she could not take an ounce more.

She did not realize that nearly everyone had gone until James Potter, of all people, came up to her. “Evans?” he said cautiously, and she looked at him but he seemed not to notice her attention because he asked again, louder this time, “Hey, Evans!”

“What do you want, Potter,” she said evenly, wanting to hiss the words but managing not to. Or maybe she simply couldn’t muster the energy to be hateful. She just wasn’t sure anymore.

“Everyone’s nearly gone, I just wanted to make sure you were coming,” he explained quietly, avoiding her eyes now that he had her attention (which she thought unusual, but found she didn’t much care). 

She nodded at him coolly, “I think I can find my way, thanks.” She began to walk away, but he grabbed onto her arm roughly. She _did_ hiss this time, not because he had hurt her arm in any way but because she felt a _spark_ , down in the dark recesses of her heart that she was ignoring quite well, thank you very much; and feeling even for a brief second that rush of emotions the touch had brought to the surface, _that_ hurt far more than any manhandling ever could.

“What?” she snapped at him, turning on her heel to face him again. He looked a bit cowed for a moment, surprised by her tone, but then he stood straighter and looked her in the eyes this time, refusing to back down. The hand on her arm moved down to her fists, which she hadn’t realized she had been clenching. 

In stark contrast to his fierce stare, James moved softly, tenderly, uncurling her fist one finger at a time. When her palm was finally flattened face-up, he suddenly flipped it over. She heard a thud as a hand full of dirt fell to the ground.

She hadn’t remembered picking it up.

Lily wasn’t sure what she felt, if she felt anything at all, but James Potter was striding away from her, back towards the church and the fireplace to floo back to the Safe House, and all she could think was

 _Come back_.

 

* * *

 

On Tuesday it was the Prewett Funeral.

There was a huge crowd of people at this one, to match the crowd of coffins buried in the ground. They had been having a small family reunion when the Death Eaters had struck. _Ironic_ , she thought, _that a reunion ended in breaking the family apart_. The Prewetts had always been a large family, branches of the family tree stretching out so far that they far more resembled roots, spreading further than anyone would have guessed at below that mysterious surface. Family members came to pay their respects from Wales, Ireland, France, America, even an odd couple that lived in the Australian outback.

There were ten coffins at this one.

(And no one mentioned that so many of them were empty, that there hadn’t been enough pieces to put back together.)

Gideon looked wrong standing alone in front of Fabian’s casket. Like he was only half of a person without his twin brother next to him. This was the worst kind of cruelty, Lily thought absently, even worse than a mother having to bury her child. Twins came into the world together; it seemed wrong for them not to leave it together as well. 

The same words were said at this funeral as the last, the same lamentations about the young being buried too soon, the same promises of justice that would never be fulfilled. 

Lily felt the closest thing to relief she was capable of when she saw Molly Weasley, crying on her knees at the foot of the gravestone of her parents and brother. She had worried that Molly, and those three little fireheaded boys by her side, had been caught in the massacre. It seemed she had been visiting her husband’s parents at the time, hidden safely away in the countryside.

_Little mercies._

Lily also saw Frank and Alice standing a little off to the side, his arms twisted around her protectively. After the service was finished they kept to themselves, whispering here and there but mostly just staring at each other. They seemed to have formed an intense sort of bond over Sancta Nox, a little force field enclosing them, their own little world. Lily had heard that they had fought off Voldemort that night, that he had come for Augusta Longbottom, who had been valiantly fighting off the Muggleborn Registration Act in the Wizengamot for months. She supposed facing death himself (she assumed that such a charred soul as Voldemort had the face of the devil) did something to a person. As she watched the way they looked at each other, she was almost jealous.

The redhead dusted off her dress; she only owned one black dress, so had had to wear the same one again. And she would wear it again tomorrow, she supposed. She turned and made her way, knowing that in the crowd of mourners she would not be missed.

She had remembered to throw the dirt this time.

 

* * *

  

And then, on Wednesday, it was the Meadowes.

It was just Lily and Dorcas this time.

The Meadowes name had been shamed the night of their murder, publicly renounced by the polite society they had fought to be a part of for so long after Department of Muggleborn Affairs revealed that Genevieve Fawley had briefly been Genevieve Ward, married to a Muggle and mother of a halfblood. No one mourned them, no one even said their name.

Dorcas hadn’t wanted any of her other friends at the funeral, either, wanted to keep it small. Private, the way her family had always been.

And Lily supposed it was poetic, in a way. She had been the one with Dorcas at the start of this whole mess. She supposed it made sense that she was the one at the close.

It was raining as they watched the caskets lowered into the freshly turned earth, a bleak freezing rain that chilled Lily to the bone. They were the only two people in the entire cemetery, two blacks streaks in a world full of grey. She held her friend up the whole ceremony, passing her tissue after tissue, and this time it was Lily who said those same empty words, made those same empty promises.

And when she got home that evening and looked in the mirror, she saw that her eyes were empty too.

 

* * *

  

There was a sharp rap on his door, and James’s head jerked away from the Auror report he had been reading at the little desk he squeezed in between his dresser and the closet door. He hated that he was one of those guys who took work home with them, had always vowed he would never be like that, but right now every minute he wasn’t working was a minute that someone was out there missing, being tortured, or dying, and he felt the weight of all those files on his desk, the names and faces, on his shoulders.

(He wondered if this was how Lily felt all the time.)

But there was another rap at the door and with a groan he got to his feet and gave his back a stretch. Merlin, it was ten o’clock already, he had missed supper. Time had slipped away from him yet again. 

Another knock.

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” he called grumpily, climbing over his bed to get to the door (he was quite boxed in, it was a bit pathetic how small the room was). The knocking continued. “I swear if that’s you, Padfoot, I’m going to turn your head into-”

He stopped midsentence when he opened the door and found Lily staring back at him.

“Um, you do remember that your room is across the hall, right?” he asked dumbly, baffled as to why she might be knocking at his door.

She nodded.

“Oh. Well, if you’re looking for that report on the Dementor breeding program, I haven’t quite gotten all the numbers right yet, so let Dumbledore know I’m working on it-”

“I’m not here for the Dementor reports,” she said evenly, her face that same blank slate that it had been for the past three weeks. She was still wearing her black funeral dress, and he absently wondered whose it had been today. 

“Then what _are_ you here for?” he asked, a little edge to his voice. It was bad enough that she hated him again, she didn’t need to rub it in his face by showing up out of nowhere. The whole avoiding each other thing had been working out quite well for them, he thought. 

“James,” she said, pulling him out of his thoughts. He could count the times she had called him by his first name on one hand (and he remembered every one of them) so she had his attention now. “James,” she said again, this time in a small voice, so quiet he had to lean in to hear her.

“I think I’ve forgotten how to feel.”

And then she leaned into him, standing on her toes as she pressed her lips to his in a hesitant yet desperate kiss. “Please, James,” she breathed into his ear, pressing her small body against his, “I need you to make me feel again.” 

It took the span of one second for James to realize what was happening, what she was asking for. He knew he should have been reluctant, should have said no because he was still so angry at her and he was exhausted from work and there were a million other reasons why this was the worst idea in the world and he should close his door right now. But that one little kiss had made him feel more alive in the five seconds that it lasted than he had in the past three weeks. And that’s what this whole war was about, wasn’t it? Why bother to fight if you don’t remember what it’s like to be alive? 

Lily stood nervously in the doorway, about ready to run away as James stared at her thoughtfully. She had no idea what would come next, but she was just so _exhausted_ she felt like her knees were going to buckle, weighed down by all the tears cried into her shoulder over the past week, the past three weeks really. She was wound so tightly she felt her insides tearing at the seams from the tension, from the effort of controlling every little thing around her. The Hospital, the Safe House, the Underground Railroad, the wards, the funerals…she was stretched so thin, but she had to hold it together because she was _the only one_ for so many, so much depended on her, and she couldn’t eat or sleep because _what if what if what if_ ran through her mind non-stop, eating her alive. But here, standing in front of her, was a boy she could lose herself in…

And she couldn’t believe the rush she felt when James took her face in his hands and drew her to him once again, a deep kiss that felt like velvet, and _he said yes_.

And the second that their lips touched, James felt that same sense of inevitability he had once before, like everything that had ever happened in his life was leading up to this one moment, leading up to Lily being in his arms. As he pulled her into the room, their bodies melding together as they moved in time, the only thought in his mind was _finally_.

 _Finally_ he was kissing her, drinking her in hungrily as he pressed her back against the closed door.

 _Finally_ he was lacing his hands into her hair, pulling out pins as he went to release those crimson locks that he could have written fucking poetry about. 

 _Finally_ he was running his hands over her waist, her hips, her arse, tracing the lines of the woman he’d chased for years.

And Lily, as she felt his mouth move to her neck and his hands to her waist, his thumbs rubbing little circles across her hipbones, thought _finally._

 _Finally_ she did not feel so scared, because the weight of his body against her as he pinned her to the door made her mind say _safe safe safe_.

 _Finally_ she did not feel so numb, the way he groaned into the crook of her neck when she began to run her hands underneath his shirt and play with the buckle on his belt causing a spark to sear through her core.

 _Finally_ she did not feel so cold, his hands making her skin smolder even as they moved to her back and he tantalizingly slowly began to unzip her dress

 _Finally, finally, finally_ she did not feel so alone.

Lily stepped out of her dress and James fumbled out of his trousers, both shedding their clothing at the speed of light, trying not to break contact for even a second. He walked her backwards until the bed hit the back of her knees and she fell back against it.

James marveled at it for a moment, the sight of Lily Evans in his bed. The red of her hair pooled against his stark white sheets, flowing across them like a crimson tidal wave. Her skin was luminescent against the blue moonlight that streamed through the windows. Her eyes were closed, eyelashes fluttering against her gaunt cheeks, and her expression was serene.

Watching her, James was suddenly filled with a sense of panic, because he had been kissing her only a moment ago but already she felt a million miles away, and he was terrified she would always be passing in and out of his life like a ghost because something about her felt otherworldly, like she was never meant to stay for long. 

(James was desperate to give her a reason to stay.) 

So he fell on top of her, kissing her like it was simultaneously the first of millions they would share, and the last they would ever have, because he had no idea which it really was. He unhooked her bra and peeled it off, his mouth automatically drawn toward one breast, and then the other, nuzzling into them and expertly drawing circles around the tips with his tongue. She made these beautiful whimpers, the most spectacular thing he had ever heard. He was half a mind to stop and find some way to record them because _oh Merlin what it did to him_. But he began inching his way down her body, running his tongue over her soft skin, because the lower he moved the closer the whimpers got to the _moans_ and he would trade in his entire Gringotts vault to hear that again.

And with every trace of his tongue Lily felt a little life restored to her, but it wasn’t enough, she still felt herself drifting, was losing herself all over again and she needed so much from James it scared her, but for some reason she felt like he was the only person who could keep her alive.

“Tell me I’m beautiful,” she breathed as he began to kiss his way up the insides of her legs, wincing at the desperation in her voice but unable to stop herself.

(Because her hair was falling out from stress and none of her clothes fit and she felt like she was turning into a ghost.)

(And James thought that must have been the silliest thing he had ever heard and almost laughed.)

He drew himself back up, his thumbs rubbing circles where his lips had just been, as he whispered in her ear, “You’re beautiful.”

Lily felt a little flutter and _there_ it was, her heart, she could feel it again and she smiled in a way that spread warmth like a blanket over the entwined couple.

And James hadn’t seen her smile in so long that he just _had_ to taste it, and it tasted like strawberry ice cream which made him smile right back. And the way she was moving against him now, it wasn’t just desperation, it was _desire_ , so he moved his hand farther up her leg _just there_ and watched her squirm. He could feel her warmth, her need, as he toyed with her through her cotton knickers and _no that just wouldn’t do_.

As Lily felt him slide her knickers down her legs, his thumb running over that bundle of nerves that make her legs quiver, she breathed again, “Tell me you want me.” 

(Because she just felt so passed around and used up.)

(And James could have spent years telling her all the ways he wanted her.)

He removed his hands for a moment so he could grind against her, his erection pressing into her through his boxers. He had to make sure she felt it, all of his need, before he hoarsely choked out, “I want you.”

Her eyes fluttered shut as he continued to grind against her, one leg draping around him as she tried to match his pace. He buried his nose in her neck and let out little rumbles every now and then, causing goosebumps to pattern her skin. 

Lily whispered once again, this time softer than all the rest, and James almost wondered if it was even meant for him. 

“Tell me you love me.”

(Because she so desperately needed to be loved.)

(And James had always loved her desperately.)

So it was the easiest thing in the world for him to mumble against her skin, “I love you.”

And those three words propelled them both forwards, leaving their minds behind as they moved over each other, kissing every bit of skin in sight. James was licking the dip of her tiny waist, and Lily running her fingers up and down his chest. He was fondling, twisting, squeezing her breasts and she nipping at his ear and tracing it with her tongue.

Then James’s fingers slid into her, thinking an incoherent strand of thoughts along the line of _wet…Lily…need….now,_ while Lily sighed in a world-enveloping pleasure that made everything feel like rose gold. His fingers moved inside her, building her up and up and up, and James stared at her in wonder while she titled her head back and stretched her arms above her, reaching for something but she wasn’t sure what.

And suddenly she knew what she had been reaching for, knew what came next, and Lily was pushing James’s boxers down and running her hand over him and _yes_ she knew what came next. 

But James’s mouth had gone dry. First, because Lily’s hand was on his cock and he was taking deep breaths because _dammit keep it together_. Second, because some far, ludicrous corner of his brain was screaming rubbish at him that he knew better than to believe, but she hadn’t stopped touching him and was moving awful close.

And he almost didn’t want to ask because he was afraid to curse it, but he wanted to know, needed to because things were getting harder and harder to control. “Lils? Is this…?”

Which wasn’t even a real question, but she was nodding at him with her _eyes_ and that _mouth_. And _fuck_ she was a virgin and he didn’t know if that made things better or worse, but it sure made things more confusing and he had to ask again.

“Lily, love, are you sure?” 

And she smiled at him.

Because Lily _was_ sure. This was a decision, _her_ decision, and she could have cried because she was choosing to be selfish and she hadn’t been selfish in a very long time. And this was James, and the way he was looking at her made her feel _worshipped_ , just like that night on the castle on the hill so many months ago, and she was dying to forget everything in the world except for that single look.

James’s head effectively became empty as he watched her lips form the word _yes_ because she was beautiful and this was happening and he had loved her since the moment he laid eyes on her. He positioned herself between her legs, elbows on either side of her head, and the ways her eyes sparkled and she radiated _life_ he knew she was back, she was his Lily again.

James could not miss a single moment of this, so his eyes stayed trained on her face as he pushed into her for the first time ( _she was so tight and he had to calm down and oh fucking hell)_. Her eyes were closed, her nose scrunched, and she was biting her lip, getting used to him, and he watched, fascinated, as she relaxed bit by tiny bit until her dazzling eyes were open again and she was mouthing _more_.

And then he was thrusting against her and _oh Merlin he was trying to be gentle_ but it was just so hard because she was making these little panting gasps and _oh fuck_. 

And Lily felt heat rising in her as it became less and less painful until it was _oh wow_ and her lungs seemed to have stopped working because she was breathing but there was no air coming in and _wow_.

They moved against each other, testing and exploring, until they could anticipate the other and suddenly they were moving _together_. And Lily’s breath was hitching higher and higher, her gasps sounding more and more like desperate pleas, and James was holding her hips tight enough it might bruise, holding her in place so he could drive into her. Up and up and up they went, a groan and a cry mingling together in a carnal harmony as they crashed down again, landing in each other’s arms.

James felt like if someone looked at him right down, the words _happy happy happy_ would be spouting from him ears.

Lily felt an amazing rush of emotions, rolling through her like waves, joy, excitement, contentment, and it was James, it had always been James, and she just wanted to smile and smile and smile.

But Lily had forgotten that were was a wide spectrum of emotions out there. The sunrise cerulean waves of joy turned black as a storm began to brew. She had held it off too long, pushed them away so she could be strong, but that couldn’t last forever. You could not have the joy without the pain.

And then Lily was crying. Turned on her side, her body shaking almost violently, she cried and cried and cried. She felt like she was a wet rag that someone was wringing out, trying to twist every tear that she sopped up, soaked in, hidden away. These were different kinds of gasps, and they _hurt_ , but no matter what she did she couldn’t make them stop. So she gave herself over to them, feeling herself leave her body, and cried several years’ worth of tears.

James was in a panic. He had just made love to the girl of his dreams, told her he loved her, and now she was turned away from him, sobbing uncontrollably and ignoring every word he said. He tried to shake her shoulder, get her attention, snap her out of it, _anything_ , but she just shuddered away from him and cried into the sheets.

All he could do was curl around her, trying to form some sort of barrier around her to protect her from the world as she finally crumbled. He racked his thoughts for what this meant, but came up with nothing good.

That night, he fell asleep to the sounds of her sobs.

When he woke up, she was gone.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Thank you so much for all of your reviews, I was really nervous about posting the last chapter, what with it being so dark and all. I was on cloud nine all week after hearing so many of you say how much it touched you, as a writer that is what I live to hear. I was not as happy with this chapter because it is more plot-driven (and I much prefer focusing on the characters) and I know you all will be a bit mad at me (the angst!) but I promise you I have a plan, I have written most of the next three chapters, and it is all going to be fine. (I get to have a lot of fun as a writer with it, so it's kind of a treat for myself after how horrible the last chapters have been to write). Anyways, stick with me, I promise you'll love it in the end! Also, I do have a question for you all: would you prefer that I just post as soon as I finish a chapter, even if it is only a couple of days in between, or would you rather I post on the same day every week? Let me know, review (please!) and enjoy the chapter as always!

13.

 

Lily wasn’t quite sure when she had stopped crying, but at some point during the night she noticed that when she took in a breath it wasn’t choked with a sob. Her tears had dried. It was over.

She sat up and stretched out her shoulders, tight from being curled up in a defensive ball for so long, and almost gasped out loud. The tension in her chest, the one that had made it feel like her skin was going to be torn off her bones when she finally snapped like a rubber band, was gone. She could breathe again.

Touching her newly freed chest absentmindedly, Lily looked at the slumbering body next to her, and knew it was him. That boy with the hair that stuck up in all directions and the silly glasses that lay crooked on his nose because he had forgotten to take them off before he fell asleep. James. He had saved her. He had brought her back from the edge of something that scared her to think about, and she knew in that moment that no matter how close she got to it again he would always be there to catch her.

She felt a lot of things in that moment, many that were foreign and a few that were scary. But she trusted James, would trust him always. She knew he would sort them out for her.

Suddenly she shot straight out of bed (a little surprised when the cool air hit her, she had forgotten she was naked). It was there, a thought bouncing around in the back of her head, an inspiration. She had to pin it down.

Lily clambered across the room, hurriedly collecting her scattered garments and throwing them on. She thought about waking James, but he just looked so adorable with his mouth hanging open (a little drool pooling out that she would be sure to tease him about later), and she knew he got just about as much sleep as she did; it would be a shame to wake him. 

So instead she kissed his forehead and tiptoed out of the room, smiling as she went. 

She didn’t even bother to change, just ran up two flights of stairs and took a right until she was in her potions room. There were stacks of books from wall to wall, and she wandered through their maze until she reached the clearing in the middle, where pieces of parchment lay strewn all over the floor. She picked up her Latin dictionary, running through sluggishly as she fought through translations. Finally she had it, and scribbled it on the back of one of pieces of parchment. 

 _Cor tutum_. Safe Heart. 

She smiled down at the paper. There it was. The incantation for her ward.

 

* * *

  

Lily skidded across the wooden floor in her wooly socks as she burst out of the hidden staircase into the pub. “James!” she called, surveying the sparse crowd of customers for a familiar mop of hair and ignoring their slightly alarmed looks. 

She sure looked quite a sight. Lily was still wearing her black funeral dress, although now it had splashes of brightly colored powder across it. She had put her hair into a topknot several hours ago, but it had fallen loose and instead resembled a ramshackle bird’s nest. She had dark circles under her eyes which directly contrasted the excited flush in her cheeks. Despite looking like a complete madwoman, or perhaps because of it, Lily sparked with life. 

“James!” she called again and, still not seeing him nor hearing a reply, rushed to the bar where Ellie was currently flouncing behind, her wave of blonde curls following her around like a cape as she tended to the customers. The blonde witch had taken up residence at the Safe House since Sancta Nox, after encouraging her parents to go abroad. She had told her mum and dad in no uncertain terms, a surprising sternness coming from the usually watery witch, that although the cards had told her that they were meant to be far away, without a doubt this was where she was supposed to be. Lily was glad to have the sunny witch so nearby, and possibly even happier to have another person added to their shifts, as the workload had become so overwhelming in recent weeks. Remus, too, had left his day job to work full-time with the Order (although that was a bit of a preemptive strike as he knew that a Werewolf Registration would be soon following the Muggleborn one, and he needed to get out of sight). 

“Ellie!” Lily called to her friend, out of breath. The blonde witch looked up and, taking in Lily’s appearance, dropped her jaw in shock. 

“Oh wow, Lily, just look! Your eyes!” she replied dreamily, adopting a smile, “Lovely, lovely. Lovely Lily!” 

“Er, yes, thank you?” the redhead replied uncertainly. She often felt that she was missing out on half of the conversation when she talked to Ellie. “Anyways, I was wondering, have you seen James around?” 

Suddenly Ellie’s face became uncharacteristically sour. “Oh, not James Potter, not yet,” she muttered to herself in an upset tone before lifting her eyes to Lily, “It’s just gotten worse, lovely, you should just keep your distance, yeah?” 

“What’s gotten worse? James?” Lily asked, before shaking her head in disagreement and continuing, “You’ve got it all wrong, Ellie, really. He’s gotten so much better. He’s kind of sweet, actually.” She felt blush a bit remembering the night before, but she did not drop her smile. “Can you just tell me where he’s gotten off to?” 

Ellie sighed, still looking put-off, “He left this morning, out to the Aurory, yeah? Not sure when he’ll be back, could be _ages_ , right?” 

“Wait, what time is it?” Lily asked uncertainly, suddenly looking at the windows, which were only dimly lit by the sun as it disappeared over the horizon. “Oh _fuck_ ,” she muttered. She had meant to catch James before he went to work, but it seemed that time had gotten away from her. _Nearly ten fucking hours_ , she grumbled. Not that it was unusual for her, she seemed to go into some strange time vortex whenever she really got into it in her potions room. She supposed she would have to find someone else to practice on, and catch up with James later. “Never mind,” she muttered, “Just, is there anyone else in the house right now that I could borrow for a minute?” 

“Dorcas is asleep in her room, I think,” Ellie replied, seeming much happier now that the conversation had moved away from James. “I’m sure she’d be happy to help. Probably in need of a distraction right about now.” 

Lily felt a clench of guilt in her gut. She had sorely been neglectful to her friends. She had been there for them every step of the way, in action at least, but had been keeping them at an arm’s distance emotionally. And she wasn’t the only one going through a crisis, she admitted ashamedly. 

Seized with a need to reforge these bonds, Lily reached across the bar to take her friend’s hand. “I love you, Ellie Fate,” the redhead said in a very serious tone, looking into her friend’s pale blue eyes, “And I am here for you, yeah? Don’t ever forget that.” 

Lily was suddenly being suffocated by a blanket of blonde curls as Ellie practically leapt across the bar to engulf her in a surprisingly bone-breaking hug for such a skinny girl. ‘Oh, wow,” the blonde witch breathed excitedly, “My Lily, I’m so glad you’re back!” 

As they broke apart Lily grinned at her and replied, “Me too, Ellie.” She started to make her way back towards the stairs before she turned back suddenly. “Oh, and El?” she asked, “Could you let James know I was looking for him? Tell him I’m doing something really important for Dumbledore, but that the second I get back we’ll talk yeah?” 

“Of course!” Ellie replied eagerly, “Lovely!” 

“Thanks, El,” Lily grinned back, “See you soon, yeah? We need to catch up!” 

And Lily was flying back up the stairs, too quickly to see that the smile did not reach Ellie’s eyes.

 

* * *

  

“Lily, will you _please_ tell me what the hell we are doing at Hogwarts?” Dorcas complained as the redheaded witch dragged her friend down the familiar hallways. 

“C’mon, we’ve got to hurry, he’s expecting us!” Lily called in reply, ignoring her friend’s question (she had owled the Headmaster nearly an hour ago, it had taken quite some time to convince Dorcas to follow her). “Almost there!” They skidded in front of the stone statue of a gargoyle, the guardian of the Headmaster’s office. Lily suddenly felt self-conscious as she stood in the same entryway she’d faced dozens of times; this time, though, she was not shielded by her Hogwarts robes and Head Girl’s badge. She felt decidedly out of place, like she was still a child playing at an adult’s war. But she shook off this feeling because after the past few months she could invariably say that she was no child. And, she may have the key to this war. Or one of them, at least. 

“Lily Evans to see Professor Dumbledore,” Lily told the gargoyle primly, who remained frozen for a few beats before stepping aside to allow her (and a reluctant Dorcas) to ascend the stairs. The redhead rapped on the door to the Headmaster’s office twice before it swung open. 

“Miss Evans,” Professor Dumbledore said, seated at his high-backed chair behind his desk that was covered with innumerous magical oddities. “And Miss Meadowes. My condolences,” he said, inclining his head briefly before turning back to Lily, “Now, I must say I am filled to the brim with curiosity about what has you rushing to the castle at such an odd time of night.” 

“Wouldn’t we all like to know,” Dorcas grumbled under her breath, rubbing the sleep out of eyes with her hand. 

Lily ignored her, though, her emerald eyes fixed on Dumbledore’s surprisingly piercing blue as she told him breathlessly, “I did it, sir! The ward, I finished it!” 

Dumbledore smiled back, not one of his small, secretive smiles, but a real one, a full smile that even showed his teeth. He rose, walking around the table, saying, “Wonderful, Miss Evans, positively astounding! You never cease to surprise me, truly.” 

Lily beamed in reply, preening a bit under his praise (Merlin, would she always be such a swot?), before eagerly asking, “Would you like to see it?” 

The Headmaster nodded, “I assume that’s why you brought Miss Meadowes?” 

“Yes, why exactly _did_ you bring me here, Lily?” Dorcas asked her pointedly, “What in the world are you talking about?” 

“Here, just-” Lily pushed Dorcas forward until she stood in the center of the office, “Just stand there. It’s a long story, I’ll explain afterwards. Just stand still for one second!” 

Lily shuffled back, and took a deep breath before closing her eyes. She reached back into her heart, her memories, clasping onto the warmth that she had felt the night before, the safety, the trust. _James_. She felt the memories wrap around her, coating her in the feeling of _safe_. “ _Cor tutum,_ ” she cast, touching the tip of her wand to her heart and pulling it away. With the wand came a glimmering, silvery substance, not unlike that of a patronus or a memory in a Pensieve. She heard a gasp from Dorcas, and a hum of appreciation from Dumbledore, but she blocked them both out as she concentrated on her spell. Her eyes still closed, Lily twirled her wand in a circle so that the thread of silvery became more circular, widening as though it were a blanket being slowly woven. Lily focused on a memory of Dorcas, her friend laughing with her over their favorite chocolate cake in the kitchens at Hogwarts their sixth year. And then she brought back the memory of Christmas, of the ripping scream her friend had let out when she heard of the death of her parents. _I wish for her to not feel pain like that again, to never suffer the same fate as her parents_. A wish, a blanket statement of hope and safety and love. Lily opened her eyes and flicked her wand upwards, the silvery substance flying into the air before settling over Dorcas. It melted onto her, soaking into her skin until there was not even a glimmer to show what had once been. 

Dorcas looked down at the deep brown skin of her hands skeptically. “Lily? What did you just-” 

“If I may?” Dumbledore interrupted her, turning to Lily. She nodded in reply, and he muttered, “ _Rictusempra!”_  

Nothing.

Looking impressed, he cast again, this time more forcefully, “ _Stupefy!”_

Dorcas stumbled back a step, but otherwise seemed unaffected. 

“Marvelous,” Dumbledore murmured, looking at Lily appreciatively, “Miss Meadowes, if you would mind stepping outside of my office for just a moment? I have something of great importance to discuss with Miss Evans here. I am sure she will explain everything as soon as she is able.” Dorcas shot Lily a glare but did as he asked. “Now, Miss Evans, if you could tell me what I just witnessed?” 

Lily began to explain the intricacies of the spell, how she had found an anchor in creating a wish for the person she was trying to protect, and how the caster had to feel safe, as well, in order for it to work. 

“But not necessarily physically safe,” she explained, “The whole spell is very spiritually and emotionally based. It’s more about the caster feeling safe in their heart, knowing that they are loved and spreading that love to protect others.” 

“ _Cor tutum,_ ” he murmured, nodding thoughtfully, “And do you believe you could use it to protect one of the Safe Houses?”

She nodded, “If I knew everyone that was inside that building, forged that little bond with each of them. But I actually think it would be easier to cast if I anchored it physically, like in the house, so that I wouldn’t have to keep casting it over and over again. Truly make it a safe House.” She grinned. 

The Headmaster smiled back. “I am impressed. This is quite a complex piece of spellwork. But tell me, how is it maintained? Where is its energy source?” 

“Well,” she said a bit nervously, “I guess that’d be me.” She knew it was not the most practical of resources, but such a spiritual spell could only find its power source in a spirit, a soul, a heart. In fact, the second she had cast the spell on Dorcas, she had felt a tiny heartbeat, barely noticeable but still there, beating in time with her own. As long as she kept the shield up, her friend would be a part of her. 

“And what about when you go to sleep? Or if you are Stunned, or simply get distracted? Will the ward fall?” 

“No,” Lily said firmly, confidently, “The second it is cast it becomes a part of me, a part of the very fiber of my being. The only way it could fall is if my heart stops beating.” 

Dumbledore nodded again, “And will it withstand any spell?” 

“Not the Unforgivables,” the redhead replied regretfully, “They are powered with such a strong hate, it is nearly impossible to withstand. But I’m sure I’ll figure it out.” She ground the last bit out determinedly, the faces of all those she had lost flashing behind her eyes. 

“I’m sure you will,” Dumbledore chuckled lightly at her fierce stance. But then he gave her a more serious look, “Now, this is an impressive spell. But you will excuse me if I say it nearly sounds too good to be true. I think we should be careful about our test run after…the last ward.”

The Headmaster sounded apologetic at bringing it up, but Lily still looked down at her hands, feeling that familiar twist in her gut. It was difficult to hear of her failures from someone she looked up to so much, even if he didn’t mean it that way. 

“That does not mean I do not think we should use the spell,” Dumbledore assured her as he saw her confidence slip, “I merely suggest, instead, using the Inverness Safe House as a kind of trial run. You will be able to closely monitor it, tinker with the spell and such. But I suggest not spreading it around to others. Best not to get their hopes up.” He smiled at her sympathetically, knowing where her mind was, knowing the guilt that clawed at Lily’s insides. “I have complete confidence in you, Miss Evans. I know you will get this spell perfected.” He grinned at her again, this time with a sparkle in his eye as he said, “I certainly believe, though, that you put your friendship at stake if you don’t explain this adventure to Miss Meadowes. I encourage you to go to her now; after all, friendship may be the greatest defense we possess.” 

Knowing that she was excused, and mind still buzzing as she processed all he had said, Lily murmured her thanks and hurried out the door. However, she ran straight into an irritated Dorcas Meadowes. 

“Please don’t hate me,” she pleaded as they walked out of the castle and back to Hogsmeade, where they had apparated into, “I’ll explain everything…”

 

* * *

  

 _She left me_ , he thought despondently, _She just left me. Who does that?_  

James was swirling the firewhiskey in his glass in between sips as he brooded, a half eaten potpie sitting beside him. His thoughts were, as always, fixated on a certain redhead.

_She left me._

When James had woken up and felt the empty space beside him where _she_ was supposed to be, he felt like he had been punched in the gut. He had waited for a while, hoping that maybe she had run out for just a bit (even though he knew in his gut that wasn’t the case). After he’d sat in bed for nearly an hour he had gone in search of her, knocking at her bedroom and potion’s room doors, but hearing nothing in reply. He had even asked everyone on duty if they’d seen her, but she might as well have disappeared. 

 _She left me_. 

It had left him gutted. That had to have been the most wonderful, beautiful, _perfect_ night of his life. Getting to see her, kiss her, touch her in all those ways he had imagined for _years_ just felt like it was too good to be true. And she had clung to him like she _needed_ him, like he _meant_ something to her. 

 _She left me_. 

And he had told her he loved her. She had asked him to, and he had so willingly obliged because he was a fucking fool for Lily Evans. If she had told him to jump off a bridge in that moment he would have done so with a smile. He had worshipped her, laid his soul bare for her, and she hadn’t said a word back (and he should have known then, should have read the warning signs). And then- 

 _She left me_. 

He had waited for an owl all day as he sorted through paperwork at the Auror office, some sort of explanation or excuse, saying that she had been called away on urgent Order business or was helping a friend or _anything_. But there was no note, no goodbye, nothing. 

And that was all he was ever going to get from her, he realized. A whole lot of nothing. 

 _She left me_. 

He had been used. He knew that now, and he felt sick to his stomach. She had used him to heal whatever wounds were ripping her open, and then tossed him aside like a soiled bandage. He should have seen it coming, if he was being honest with himself. _I need you to make me feel._ These were not words of love, he had known that, but he had let himself get caught up in the moment, caught up in _her_. 

 _She left me._  

Well, he was _done_. Sure, he’d be happy to keep fucking her if that’s what she wanted. Really, it was mutually beneficial. Good stress relief, after all, and it kept Lily from walking around like a fucking zombie. She was too important to the Order for that, he rationalized (a bit desperately). Plus, _Merlin_ she was an amazing shag, better than any of his daydreams (and those had always been obscenely detailed). No, he wasn’t ready to give _that_ up quite yet. 

But everything else, the love and devotion, following her around like a sad puppy, all of that was over. She was a cold, stuck up bitch, he told himself, and she wasn’t worth the effort. 

 _She left me._  

Mittens rubbed against his hand (he had gotten in the habit of taking the kitten just about everything, kind of like a therapy dog) and James scratched him absently behind the ear. Mary took away his potpie, which had gone cold ages ago, and he mumbled his thanks. He was thankful that it was Mary behind the bar now. When he had first gotten there it was Ellie. She had stared at him coldly, and very reluctantly handed over the food that he ordered, as if she would be just as happy if he starved. He had never understood her. She was perfectly pleasant around the whole group, a bit mad, yes, but endearingly so. But as long as he’d known her, Ellie had frozen up around him, sending him icy glares and sharp words. And the way she looked at him, those faraway looks, completely creeped him out. He still had no idea what he had ever done to piss her off so thoroughly, he’d really wracked his brain over it. He assumed it must be something to do with Lily. All of her friends tended to be pitbulls around her (which she needed because Merlin knows she has no sense of self-preservation), and James had been her antagonist, he supposed, for years. 

He tried to shake off the thoughts of the redhead, reminding himself that he was _done_ when the bell above the bar door tinkled and _she_ walked in. 

 _She left me_. 

There it was, that punch in the gut all over again. Because she was smiling and laughing, and her eyes _sparkled_ and she looked so fucking fantastic, so much like the Lily he’d watched for years, that it _hurt_. 

 _She left me_. 

“Oh, James! I’ve be meaning to find you!” she called, bouncing over to him like she was actually fucking _happy_ and he wanted to scream. Dorcas had made her way up the stairs, and Mary was tactfully working back in the kitchen. “About last night-” 

“Great, wasn’t it? Not as wild as I thought you’d be, usually the prissy girls are animals in bed, but all things considered it wasn’t bad,” James drawled, and he watched that beautiful smile on her face fall. 

(He wasn’t sure whether it felt like a victory or a loss but _she left me_.) 

“It’s understandable, though, and if I were you I’d want to get the first time over with, too. We could die any day, right? Don’t want to die a virgin.” He could see the shock on her face, saw that for once she was speechless. (And he almost felt a twinge of guilt but he pushed it away). “Anyways, next time you’re feeling _frustrated_ ,” he gave her a smirk, “Or need someone to tell you what you want to hear, I’d be more than happy to oblige. You know where to find me, yeah?” He downed the rest of the drink and began walking away, towards the stairs, and felt a surge of triumph when he heard a shout behind. 

 _“Well fuck you then, you fucking bastard!”_ Her hair was flying wild around her face and her eyes were burning, shock and hurt and anger painted on her face. She looked like an avenging angel, a masterpiece.

He took her in, a bit awed, but adopted a cruel smile and drawled again, “Oh, love, but you already have.” 

As he made his way up the stairs he heard something explode in the room below, probably a bar stool that had looked at her the wrong way, and he sniggered. 

 _She left me_ , he told himself firmly.

But her fire was back.

 _And he loved it_.

 

* * *

 

If there was a red handprint on her cheek, Lily would not be surprised. She felt like she had been slapped. Might as well have been, from the way her ears were ringing and her skin burned. She felt hot, like she was boiling, boiling from the inside out. So volatile that if someone struck a match too close to her, the whole building could go down in flames. 

 _What the hell had just happened?_  

Lily glared at James’s retreating figure, wondering if her wandless magic had advanced enough that it would bore a hole through him. _No such luck._ Instead she pointed her wand at the bar stool he had just vacated. 

“ _Confringo!_ ” she shouted, watching with grim satisfaction as the splinters of the wood mushroomed into a forested cloud, almost like an atomic bomb. Before the splinters reached too far, Lily flicked her wand again and watched as time reversed and the stool reassembled itself. 

_How could he say those things?_

Desperately, she rewinded the events of the previous night again and again as she stood there, still staring at the stairs that he had disappeared on. What had gone wrong? Did she say something? _(Merlin was she that bad of a shag?)_. 

Each time it hurt a little more because _Merlin_ it had been beautiful and perfect and _didn’t he tell me he loved me?_  

And then it dawned on her, and she felt her cheeks flame as her gut twist painfully. The embarrassment and hurt became suffocating, the room stifling as she remembered. 

Every word he said, every touch of his hands on her skin. She had asked for them, begged for them, told him exactly what she needed him to do. _He had simply been following directions._  

 _Pathetic_ , she berated herself. Every single word she had said to him that night must have sounded so fucking pathetic. Poor little Lily Evans, all lonely and needy. It was a pity fuck, is what it was. She was a fool to think it was anything else, a fool to think James Potter could ever have _real_ feelings for her. She had always been a fucking joke to him, and always would be. 

And then he had _thrown it in her face_ , like she hadn’t been so completely fucked up and broken when she had come to his door.

 _Pathetic_. 

Lily sat down on the stool she had just reassembled, putting her face in her hands and letting out a loud groan. 

“Merlin, Lily, what was that about?” Mary said, approaching her cautiously, “What’s wrong?” 

“James Potter is a _fucking twat_ , that’s what’s wrong,” Lily said bitterly through her hands, “So nothing new, I guess.” 

When she got no reply from her friend, Lily lifted her head up to find out why Mary was not commiserating with her as girl code clearly stated she should be. She found that instead of adopting a sympathetic grimace or empathetically angry look, the blonde witch was just smiling broadly at her. Lily glared at her. “What?” she said sharply, “Why in the world are you smiling? I am having a crisis right now, Mary!” 

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Mary assured her sunnily, “It’s just nice to see you again.” 

The redhead rolled her eyes, “You saw me yesterday Mary. And anyways, that is no excuse for not commiserating with me.”

“I suppose so,” she replied, still grinning in that way that just made Lily feel brassed off. 

“Whatever,” the redhead grunted, making to get out of her seat before remembering what had happened earlier that evening _(before that twat had ruined everything_ ). She looked at the blonde witch, making herself smile peaceably as she asked, “Could you do me a favor, Mar? Could you write down everyone that’s living in the Safe House right now, and their room numbers?” Mary looked at her curiously, but seeing that Lily looked much less combative proceeded to scribble down the names on a piece of parchment that she pulled out of a pocket in her robes. Lily grabbed at it, ready to get upstairs and stew in her misery for a bit. “Thanks Mary,” she said stiffly before turning on her heel and heading upstairs. 

“You’re welcome, princess!” the blonde witch shouted after her gleefully (while she Lily back an angry retort; she knew it wasn’t fair to take out her anger on her friend, especially when she seemed to be in a suspiciously good mood.) 

Lily scampered up the stairs to her bedroom, eager for a rest (she realized despairingly that she couldn’t remember the last time she had more than five hours of interrupted sleep). She paused outside of James’s door, directly across the hall from hers. She was sorely tempted to bang on his door and yell at him until she was blue in the face. 

But Lily entered her room instead, collapsing facedown on her bare mattress, exhausted both physically and emotionally. Her entire body felt strung out, and she tried to sort through all of her feelings, unravel the mess of threads clogging up her heart. 

There was hurt, yes, hurt that felt like a million needles pricking her heart, her wounds seeping with the poison of betrayal. Anger, the kind of anger that made her feel like she might implode if she didn’t let it out soon. ( _That arrogant cocksucker_.)

Then there were the feelings that she had been running from for weeks, slowly turning herself to stone so she wouldn’t be eaten alive. There was a hollowness in her bones, a feeling of loss that emptied her out until she was sure that the beating of her heart could be heard a mile away because of how loud the echo was in her chest. Sadness weighed her down like bricks in the ocean until she was drowning, and she felt fear creeping up in her until she felt like she would be sick. 

But after that first wave, there came another kind of feeling. She felt thankful, thankful to have met people like Marlene who made her laugh, and the Meadowes who had done everything they could to protect their daughter in a hateful word. Thankful for every minute she had spent with them, for the memories she could greedily guard for the rest of her life.

Lily felt an immense sense of triumph blossom in her chest, as well, because _she had done it_ , she had created an impossible spell and in her bones she knew that it would work. (And she felt relief because there would be fewer funerals, fewer families broken apart, fewer backs to rub as they cried into her shoulder.) 

Finally, she felt that awe-inspiring, all encompassing and unconditional love for her friends, and the warmth of that same love covering her. She had felt so lost, so alone, but now she could feel them again. She had been hovering amongst the stars but now she was back on Earth and _ah yes_ this was what love felt like. 

She felt so much, and she still couldn’t untangle the messy web in her chest, even as she identified what they were. They were there, though, the good and the bad, the highs and lows. 

 _Lily was feeling again._  

James Potter was a prick, she thought, always had and always would be. But he had done what she had asked, he had saved her from walking over that edge that she knew she would never have come back from. And even though it hurt now, even though she wanted to curse him until he was unrecognizable and throw lots of plates against the wall, didn’t mean she could fall apart again. She realized she liked being whole again; maybe she was a masochist but even the pain and loss that reverberated in her bones was making her feel a sick sense of satisfaction. The whole world seemed so much more real now, so much more in focus, like she was waking up from a dream. She wouldn’t let herself lose that again over _some boy_ , couldn’t lose that again. 

(But he wasn’t some boy, was he? Even now she felt that _safe_ resonating across the hall, and she felt comforted knowing he was there, was within arm’s reach.) 

But he had said horrible, horrible things (they cut deep, she felt the blood of her wounds drip, drip, dripping down her heart). And Merlin, now that he had gotten what he’d been panting after her for years for, he was going to be insufferable. Not to mention that she had begged for it, begged for James Fucking Potter to shag her. 

( _She hated him, she hated him, she hated him.)_  

( _But she would never forget that night.)_

But Lily had always prided herself on her ability to hold a grudge (she supposed it was a family trait, really). So she wouldn’t fall apart again (wouldn’t give him the satisfaction to see it) and she would _never_ let him hurt her again. She would fight him and hate him and give as good as she got, because they were Lily and James, after all, and what were they without a little bit of fire and explosives?

 

* * *

  

Lily had brushed away the mess of emotions by the next morning, knowing that she needed to be focused, on top of her game for what was to come. That afternoon, after she had completed her shifts in the bar and the Hospital Wing, Lily went to each room in the Safe House to meet everyone who resided there. Some were simply there for a short stay; Muggleborns were no longer being treated at St. Mungo’s unless they were registered, and even then they were often refused entry. Order members, as well, were there to recover from injuries from various missions, getting stitched up before they barreled headfirst into the next fight. 

Then there were the refugees. Muggleborns, like the Boots, the Clearwaters, the Eddingtons. Blood traitors, like the Abbotts, the Cattermoles, the Oakby’s. Charity Burbage had run away from her pureblood, prejudiced family after they pledged their loyalty to Voldemort’s populist party. AnneMarie Selwyn was in hiding with her Muggle fiancé, Jackson Turret, from her Death Eater family, who was out for her blood. Andromeda Tonks, Sirius’s disgraced cousin, was with her husband, Ted, and her three-year-old daughter Nymphadora, hiding from her family as well, in particular her psychotic sister Bellatrix. 

Each room, each family, each name had a story to tell, and Lily wanted to hear them all. 

As she exited the Mucky Duck, her heart was simultaneously heavy from all of the tragedy surrounding the refugees, and filled with immense hope. These people who would not let prejudice and hate keep them from loving were the reason to fight. And the children, like little Nymphadora Tonks and the precious newborn Penelope Clearwater, were the next generation. Hopefully, they would someday grow up in a world without so much hate, a world where brother did not fight brother, a world without war.

So much hope filling up those little apartments. 

As Lily began to cast her spell, after carefully Disillusioning herself from passerbys, she let herself be washed over with this hope, this love. She felt it wrap around her like armor, making her feel like strength and warmth, a fighter and a mother looking after her flock. She touched her wand to her heart and drew out the silvery liquid. 

She listed off the names of each person she had spoken to, whispering their names on her lips: Clearwater, Burbage, Tonks. This list went on and on. She added her friends as well: Dorcas Meadowes, Ellie Fate, Mary MacDonald. Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Peter Pettrigrew. Alice and Frank Longbottom, Benjy Fenwick. Even James Potter.

And she made a wish. 

 _As long as they are under this roof, keep them safe. Let them live to see their hopes and dreams fulfilled._  

The silvery liquid grew and grew before settling on the Safe House like a blanket. It seeped into the roof, the brickwork, the very foundation, shimmery like the shield it was, before slowly fading away. 

Lily felt the faint pulse of heartbeats in tune with hers, the shadow of the hearts she had sworn herself to protect. She felt her own heart race for a moment, buoyed by a wave of euphoria. Grinning from ear to ear, Lily walked back into the pub, heading straight to the bar that Dorcas was currently tending. 

“Dorcas,” she began excitedly, out of breath, “It worked! I can feel all of them, it’s amazing! I have to tell-” 

Lily was abruptly cut off as suddenly she collapsed to the floor.

 

* * *

  

Lily’s eyes fluttered open weakly, only to find two sets of eyes drilling into her. “What the hell?” she asked groggily, trying to sit up but falling back as she was hit by a wave of vertigo. “Merlin, I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck,” she groaned as she leaned back into her pillow.

It was then that she recognized the two people watching her. Dorcas and… _James Potter_? “What’s _he_ doing here?” Lily asked her friend, putting as much venom into the question as she could in her weakened state.

“Just being your knight in shining armor, as per usual,” the wizard drawled, giving her a smirk, “I carried you up after you fainted.”

“I did not _faint_ ,” Lily huffed argumentatively, “Merely lost consciousness for a very brief period of time.” James rolled his eyes. “And anyways, you do remember you’re a witch, Dorcas? You could have just levitated me.” (Lily was mostly just trying to hide her blush at the thought of James carrying up the stairs like some goddamn damsel in distress. It was sickening.) 

“I was just flustered, I guess,” Dorcas explained, coloring slightly, “And James was just _there_ and it seemed easier at the time.” 

“And you, Potter?” Lily asked, “Forgotten how to use your wand?” 

“Evans, you wound me,” James replied, dramatically putting his hand over his heart, “I am sure you remember just how _capable_ I am with my wand.” 

“Oh _grow up_ , you imbecilic twit,” Lily snapped, her skin heating and feeling her hand twitch with the desire to slap that twisted smirk off his face, “Why are you even still here?” 

“I asked him to stay, Lily,” Dorcas cut in quickly, looking anxiously back and forth between the arguing pair, obviously unsure of what was happening, “You were looking really peaky, and your heart was racing, almost seemed like you were having some kind of fit. I wanted to have someone on hand in case I needed to get Mary down here quickly.” 

“Oh. Well, okay then,” the redhead said grudgingly while James grinned triumphantly. Something about what Dorcas had said, though, triggered a memory. _Racing heart_. Suddenly she was hit all over again with the force of dozens of heartbeats pulsing all with hers, pushing her back again the pillow while her eyes rolled back. 

“Lily! LILY!” Dorcas shouted, and she felt rough hands shaking her shoulders. She was drawn out of unconsciousness. 

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Lily said, trying to placate her friend (and ignoring the worried look on James’s face because he had no right to worry over her anymore, the prat), “That’s what I was trying to tell you, actually, it’s about the ward!” She looked uncertainly at James, remembering what Dumbledore had said about spreading word of her wards around. Sure, James had helped her develop the ward a bit (okay, a lot), but he had obviously been proven to be less than trustworthy. Dorcas was already in on the secret, but James had to go. (She assured herself that this had nothing to do with how bitter of feeling she had towards the wizard, oh no, she was just following orders). Lily looked coolly at James, saying primly, “Thank you for carrying me upstairs, Potter, as unnecessary as it was, but I believe we are no longer in need of your services. If you could please leave, it would be much appreciated.”

“Merlin, what’s got a broom up your ass now? I haven’t heard you talk that prissily since Hogwarts,” James scoffed, not budging a bit.

“Just get the hell out, okay? Is that better?” Lily snapped back. James raised his hands and walked backwards out the door, although he was smirking in triumph again at getting a rise out of her. The redhead let out a long, frustrated breath as she watched him leave, before turning back to Dorcas. “ _Anyways_ , it’s the wards; I was able to get them up! I think it’s just taking a bit of a toll on me, I am still getting used to them.” _Getting used to the feeling of dozens of hearts invading her chest._ “I’m sure it will pass soon, nothing to worry about,” she finished, smiling weakly at her friend. 

Suddenly her door burst open with a _bang!_ as two blonde figures rushed into the room. “Benjy, slow down!” Mary was yelling after the wizard, “I told you, she’s fine!” 

“Fine enough for you, Ellie, and Remus to all send me owls about her? Fine enough for her to stop eating, stop sleeping, stop talking? Fine enough to be _passed out on the floor_?” Benjy demanded of the other witch, before muttering to himself, “I knew this would happen, I should have told Dumbledore I needed to stay, I _know_ how she gets when she’s lost someone…” 

“I’m _right here_ ,” Lily interjected huffily, sitting up on her elbows, “Merlin, I’m not a child!” 

“Could have fooled me!” Benjy exclaimed, taking a seat on her mattress at pinching at her arm, “Look at you? How many meals have you been eating a day?” Lily mumbled something under her breath. “Thought so,” he replied brassily. 

“Hey, hey, look at me,” Lily said, catching Benjy’s chin so he could look her in the eye, “Look at me. I’m doing much better, okay? I know where I was, and it wasn’t good for a long time, but I’m better now. Yeah?” 

Benjy looked at her for a while, searching for something in her eyes. Seeming to find it, his face broke out into a relieved smile. “Merlin, you scared me, Red,” he sighed, shoulders slumping as he released the tension that had been holding them back. 

“I know,” she replied sadly, snuggling into his lap, “But anyways, the fainting didn’t have anything to do with any of that.” She hesitantly looked at Mary; she had worked with Benjy for hours on the wards, and it only felt right to tell him. Mary, seemingly reading her thoughts, told them she had to get back to the Hospital Wing, and exited the room, closing the door behind her.

“So what was it about then?” Benjy asked.

Lily proceeded to fill him in on her progress with the ward, and then tell both him and Dorcas all about how it had affected her. “It’s the most amazing thing,” she said excitedly, “I can feel every single person in this building, feel the blood flowing in their veins. I can’t even begin to describe it.” She hummed happily as she sat up, slowly becoming more and more used to the weight of all those lives on her shoulders. 

“Sounds like it could be dangerous, Red,” Benjy cautioned, looking at her worriedly, “Isn’t that a lot to carry around?” 

“I can handle it,” Lily said confidently (although the others looked at her skeptically, still, considering she was still barely holding herself up). But the witch knew it was true, had felt the words humming in her chest in confirmation. She hadn’t known it until she said it out loud, but in her gut she knew she really _could_ handle it. 

“I think we should let her get some rest now,” Dorcas said, shooing Benjy out of the room. She did not have much of a mothering side, but what she did have seemed to be focused solely on Lily at all times. It could be a bit suffocating at times, the overprotectiveness. 

In this moment, though, Lily was thankful. It was true; she felt like she had run a marathon at the speed of a sprint, and needed a good rest to sleep it off. 

As she lay on her mattress, covered by her mother’s blanket, she considered all of the lives she could touch at this moment. Some were beating strong, heavy beats, and she could feel the fighter in them. Some were weak, barely a pulse, and Lily was sadly reminded of the frail bodies lying in the Hospital Wing, slowly drifting away.

There was one, though, that stood out above the rest. She could almost feel it in her throat, it was that strong, and out of all the heartbeats it was the most in sync with hers, beating along in a perfect rhythm.

Lily’s last thought before she fell asleep was wondering whose heart it was.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my gosh, I am so sorry to everyone for the late update! Here I was bragging about how quickly I get chapters out, and now I can't get it together. My family had a major crisis this week, though, and it was all hands on deck so I've been away from my computer all week. Because of this I had to rush through the ending of this chapter a bit and may be going back to edit. Anyways, I feel like this is a really fun chapter, I had so much fun writing it! Thank you for all of your reviews (shout out to all you guests, you are lovely people!), they are so motivating for me! I will try to get the next chapter out as quickly as possible. Thank you for your kinds words and patience, and I hope you enjoy!

14.

 

"The maps says turn left here!"

"Yeah? Well my superior instinct says to turn right!"

"What a load of bullsh-uh-bollocks."

"That wasn't any better, Evans."

"Shut up."

David and Martha Clearwater rolled their eyes at each other, and Martha clapped her hands over little Penelope's ears to protect her from the surprisingly foul mouth of Lily Evans. She and James Potter had been squabbling for the better part of an hour now, and it was grating on all of their nerves.

James and Lily were guiding the Clearwaters through a relatively unknown forest in northern Scotland, making their way to a rendezvous point on the coast where the family could catch a ride on a fishing boat that would take them to the safety of Norway, to wait out the war. The five of them had been traveling for most of the day; they had apparated into the middle of the forest, and continued on foot the rest of the way, as the Order had surrounded the small bay with anti-apparition spells for protection. This particular port served as one of their best routes to smuggle refugees out of the country. A set of Norwegian brothers, the Nilsens, that Benjy had recruited used their fishing boat, spelled to appear and disappear at will for quick travel across oceans, to get families like the Clearwaters out of the country.

However, they had gotten lost at some point, and this had only led to a mind-numbing hour of bickering between the two guides.

"Here, let me take a look at that," James said, snatching the map out of Lily's hands while she cried out in objection.

"Hey! I thought you didn't need a map, your 'superior instincts' and all," Lily said snarkily, using her fingers to draw air quotes.

"Why are you even here?" James snapped back, "Shouldn't you be playing Mother Teresa somewhere?"

Not rising to the bait, Lily replied coolly, "Wouldn't you like to know."

In reality, Lily had only been chosen for this particular mission to test out the strength of her wards. She was usually not included on missions, her particular skill set being found most useful behind the scenes of the war, but Dumbledore had wanted to see how her wards over the Safe House held even when she was far away, and how her individual wards on the Clearwaters held when they were distanced from their physical anchor. The heartbeats of the inhabitants of the Safe House had grown quieter, but were still there, a faint strain put on Lily's own heart as she continued to keep the ward strong. She could feel the Clearwaters, and James as well, pulsing close by, and she was quite proud that she was maintaining the spell so well. Although, based on how much it was tiring her out, she decided she should probably get on a workout regiment. Heart-healthy, and all that shite.

She  _did_  wish that Dumbledore had chosen literally  _anyone_  other than Potter for her first test mission for the wards, though. Even Emmeline Vance, who still thought it funny to make fun of her red hair and pale skin, would have been better than him. There were two reasons for this. The first was the most obvious: James Potter was a prat. She was still positively furious with him over how he had treated her after they had slept together several weeks ago. I mean, Merlin, after chasing after her for years she expected him to have at least  _some_  feelings for her, enough to treat her better than some common slag once he was done with her. War had definitely been declared between them, and Lily had no qualms about fighting dirty, that was for sure. She did everything she could to remind him of how royally he had fucked up with her, just how much of a prick he really was. (Just how much he was missing out on.)

Of course, James was never one to back down from a fight. In return, he made sure he was always around her, brushing up against her in that way that made her mind go fuzzy and then shooting her that awful, smug smirk. He teased her and flirted with her and made as many suggestive and inappropriate comments as a randy fifth year. Once again she was the butt of all his jokes, and it made her want to scream because he had already made that very clear, thank you very much, he really didn't need to rub it in.

Unfortunately, Lily had also begun to realize that no matter how deep of a pit of self-denial she dug for herself, she couldn't seem to forget that night.  _He_ kept popping up in her dreams, and although half of the time they were the good kind where she just got to hex him or push him off cliffs and the like, the other left her waking up gasping and covered in sweat, an uncomfortable warmth blooming in between her legs. This wasn't the first time either of these dreams had occurred (James had been fit for awhile and she wasn't dead, it was bound to happen, yeah?) but for the first time she wasn't sure which one she preferred more, and this was leaving her very confused and conflicted about the whole situation.

(Actually she did know which one she preferred but, as stated earlier, she was living in a pit of denial the size of the Grand Canyon.)

The second reason that James Potter was the worst candidate as a partner for this particular mission was that he had always possessed an incredible radar for anything Lily-related. He had always been able to find her wherever she was in the castle in school, and could read even the slightest change in her mood. She still wasn't supposed to be spreading around news of her new ward, but if anyone was going to pick up on something fishy going on with her it was going to be James. She certainly did not need him hounding her for answers if something happened involving the wards, he was a stubborn little git and wouldn't give up until he had gotten what he wanted.

( _Aren't I proof of that?_  she thought bitterly.)

"And anyways," Lily continued, shaking off her musings as she turned to face James, who was currently turning the map this way and that, "How does an airhead like  _you_  know about Mother Teresa?"

"We did a case study on saints in Muggle Studies, talked about how they were a form of expression of the Muggle obsession with magic," he replied as he squinted at a corner of the map, "I  _am_  more than a pretty face, you know."

"Bloody useless class," Lily muttered under her breath irately before she replied, "Well I should hope so, seeing as you don't have much of a pretty face to begin with."

James looked up from the map to fix her with a glare. "Now  _that_  was uncalled for," he objected, peering at her through narrowed eyes, "We're not going anywhere until you apologize."

"Oh,  _honestly_ , Potter," Lily huffed, snatching the map out of his hands, "In your dreams."

She felt him coming up behind her, but kept her eyes resolutely glued to the parchment in front of her, refusing to acknowledge him.  _Maybe if I ignore him, he'll just go away_ , she thought hopefully. She was growing sick and tired of his immaturity, and arrogance, and that ridiculous way he ruffled his hair…

"If we're talking about fulfilling dreams, I have a couple more in mind," James murmured into her ear as he pretended to read the map over her shoulder.

The words sent a shiver down her spine, but she felt the Clearwaters' eyes on them, so she took a step away from him, shooting him a glare in return ( _and he was grinning at her wickedly, smug bastard, he knew exactly what he was doing_ ) before she placed her wand in her palm and firmly said, "Point me." Her wand spun around in her hand, point slightly to her right, and she shot James a triumphant look. "Told you we needed to go right!"

James rolled his eyes at her as he watched her gleefully bound up the hill, victorious, but he followed complacently as she led them up a rocky ledge. He did not altogether mind taking a backseat at the moment. See, Lily was wearing these  _fantastic_  athletic pants made of some stretchy fabric that clung to her like a second skin. She was wearing an oversized flannel shirt that covered her down to mid-thigh but when she bent over just a bit, as she was just now, messing with the straps of her hiking boots – ah, there it was, that sweet, perfectly peach-shaped arse.

Now that James had resolutely decided to stop letting Lily stomp all over his heart, he was becoming much more brazen in his appreciation of the physical nature of their relationship. His addiction to her had (predictably) only grown worse since they had slept together, but he had let himself give in to it rather than fighting it all the time. It's not like he had anything to lose anymore, and why deny himself the pleasure when he could die tomorrow?

It also annoyed Lily, which was the ultimate goal nowadays. He knew it was petty, their fighting, but if he was being truly honest with himself, James was actually enjoying it. The way they fought, their constant back and forth, kept life vibrant for him, something he had all but lost since the war had turned everything various shades of dour gray.

And Lily was being just as horrible back, if not more so. She had called him out in front of the whole Order at the last meeting because he had made one  _teensy_  mistake (okay, it was a rather important teensy mistake, but she didn't have to be quite so condescending about it all.) She was back to yelling at him a lot, giving him a lot of traumatic flashbacks to their Hogwarts days. James had forgotten how cutting she could be when she was well and truly brassed off; he had never given her full credit for how clever she could be and it was definitely biting him in the arse now that she kept on catching him off-guard, leaving him staring at her with his mouth hanging open. The staring thing, though, could also be due to the fact that she kept on wearing these incredibly-sexy-but-just-modest-enough-for-polite-society outfits that were driving him mad, and he  _knew_ she was doing it on purpose because she would wear this  _horrible_ smirk that she had definitely stolen from him. And then she would bend over to show the outfit off, only to lean right into whatever guy was at the bar and start chatting him up. It was maddening.

In some ways, as well, their fighting was a relief because it was evidence that she wasn't going numb again even though the death toll of the war only continued to rise and the headlines of the Daily Prophet became even more disheartening. He thought about it a bit like the gas stove in their apartment that Remus had taught him how to use. He was kind of lighter that sparked the flame, but Lily was maintaining that fire all on her own just fine.

(Maintaining it too well, in his opinion.)

Still bent over tying her shoe, Lily seemed to sense his eyes on her because she turned around. Seeing where he was currently still staring, she narrowed her eyes at him and proceeded to flip him off. James only laughed at her; it was difficult to take her seriously when she was wearing those ridiculous pigtail braids. She glared at him again before straightening up and storming off through the brush after the Clearwaters.

James looked regretfully after her retreating figure.  _Ah well_ , he thought philosophically,  _it was too good to last._ He followed the path she had just taken, breaking into a clearing that led down to the shore, where Lily smiled up at him smugly. Two broad-shouldered, heavily-bearded men stood behind her, and James ignored her to shout greetings to them. "Alright, Svein? Marius?" he said easily, clasping hands with them as they returned his greetings in their heavily accented English.

James went on to catch up with Svein, while Lily checked the enchantments on the boat with Marius and then talked over the plan with the Clearwaters one last time. The last stop on this branch of the Underground Railroad was a little inn on the coast of Norway, Hyrr Frer. There, one of Dumbledore's old friends from the Grindewald Wars would provide them with forged paperwork and some leads on a job. The rest would be up to the Clearwaters.

Suddenly, James's back straightened and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. If he were in his stag form his ears would be twitching. Something was there, beyond the trees, watching them.

Hunting them.

"In the boat,  _now_!" James roared at the Clearwaters, pushing them towards the Norwegian wizards as they began scrambling for the ship.

"Potter, what's wrong?" Lily called to him as she jumped off the boat, her eyes wide in confusion, and a bit of irritation too. That vanished, though, when the first curse flew from the trees. "Get going!" the redhead witch shouted at the two brothers as they scrambled to get the boat out to sea, "We'll hold them off!"

Five Death Eaters, hooded and masked, emerged from the tree line, their wands flashing like swords as they shot curse after curse at the group of witches and wizards huddled on the beach. James and Lily flourished their wands with a vicious gracefulness, cutting across the air as they blocked each spell sent their way.

"How did they find us?" Lily shouted to James as her shield spell quivered under a curse that a burly Death Eater, probably Crabbe or Goyle he thought, had sent towards Svein as he was unmooring the ship.

"Must have been following us for a while, trying to find out how we were smuggling everyone out," James shouted in reply as he ducked under a Cruciatus Curse in a barrel roll.

"Mighty clever, aren't you, Potter?" a familiar voice sneered under one of the masks, before shooting off another spell.  _"Sectumsempra!_ "

James was not quick enough to dodge the spell, and was hit square in the chest. Expecting to feel his body tear open with the power of the curse, he was shocked when he felt nothing. He glanced down at his chest; his body seemed to have simply absorbed the spell. From the corner of his eye, he saw Lily stumble backwards a step and noticeably pale, although she was able to get her shield just in time to block a Stunner from one of the other Death Eaters. "Evans, what the hell did you do!" James shouted at her, sending out a few Stunners of his own at the onslaught of dark wizards.

"Don't worry about it!" she shouted back, managing to hit one Death Eater with a ferocious Stunner, and another with a creatively chosen Obliviate (the wizard was now jumping obliviously in the ocean).

"It's Lily Evans!" that same familiar voice shouted to the rest of the Death Eaters after he, too, seemed to recover from the shock of his spell unexpectedly failing, "And James Potter! MacNair, call him!"

Wondering briefly why their names mattered and who this person was calling, James went back to dueling the leftover Death Eaters. He noticed the ship getting farther and farther away; a few more kilometers and they would be able to dive. "They're almost out of here, Lils, we need to get back to the apparition zone!" James called to her as she was hit with a slicing hex, her wand arm opening and beginning to pour blood. She simply cast another Shield Charm and shouted back, "I've got this!"

" _BOMBARDA MAXIMA!_ " she roared as she forcefully thrust her wand forward. The three remaining Death Eaters were flown back into the trees as the ground beneath moved like a tsunami wave back towards the forest. James was staring a bit in awe at the sheer power of her spell when he felt her grab his hand, dragging him behind her as she ran across the beach. "The boat just dove, we've got to get out of here, reinforcements are sure to be on the way!"

James dove into the forest after her, barely keeping track of her flying crimson locks as they sprinted through the tangled woods, tripping over roots and dodging branches as best they could. James knew he had cuts all over him, and Lily still hadn't patched up the gash on her arm, but there was no time.

A curse shot at him, barely missing his head and causing the tree he had just passed to explode. James had lost track of where they were, had no idea if they were anywhere close to the apparition point. Another tree burst next to him, a chunk of wood embedding itself painfully into his shoulder. Where was Lily? He hadn't seen her telltale fiery curls in awhile, and he was quickly losing steam; he couldn't keep this pace up much longer.

He yelped in pain as an arm shot out and grabbed his injured shoulders, pulling him behind a massive moss-covered boulder. "Shh, Potter, it's just me," Lily whispered at him, covering his hand with her mouth to smother his yelp. After she was assured that he wouldn't be screaming anytime soon, she lowered her hand.

"How much farther do we have until we're out of the anit-apparition zone?" James whispered to her, tensing as he heard the footfalls of several people crashing through the forest.

"About a kilometer to the east," she whispered back, her face starting to look a bit grey from the blood loss.

"Do you want me to get that?" James asked, gesturing to her still gushing wound. She nodded, grimacing, and he cast a quick, clumsy Healing spell. Shit, he though as the wound closed and he looked woefully down at the welt on her arm. He had always been shit at Healing charms, and it was definitely going to scar.

Seeing James's distressed look at the fresh scar on her skin, Lily whispered, "Don't worry about it, Potter, I hear the ladies go mad for scars."

A ghost of a smile appeared on James's face, "I didn't know you swung for that team, Evans."

"I have come to the conclusion that men are overrated," she said seriously, although James could detect a hint of mischief in her eyes.

"See, that's a challenge right there," James whispered in reply with a grin, "Now I'm going to have to change your mind."

Lily rolled her eyes at him, and looked like she was going to retort when they were interrupted by a shrill laugh that made them both jump, dread blooming on their faces.

"What a fun sport!" a gleeful, high-pitched voice called, "Mudblood hunting! Come on, mudblood, come out come out wherever you are!"

A tree only a yard to the left of them burst into flames as a curse hit it. "Bellatrix," James hissed, and Lily's eyes widened in panic.

"Getting warmer?" Bellatrix called. A boulder a little ways down from them burst, showering the two of them in pebbles.

"Lily, we have to move-" James began to hiss, once again filled with an adrenaline-fueled urgency, but was distracted as she began murmuring a spell, a silvery liquid flowing out of her wand and coating the boulder they were hiding behind. "What are you doing?"

"There's nowhere to go," Lily muttered back, almost to herself, "They're closing in fast. We'll need a distraction, a big one, but not yet, not until they're all here in one place, not until He's here…"

"Until who's here?" James demanded, grabbing her wrist. But his question was answered as a cruel voice boomed throughout the forest, sending shivers down his spine and causing Lily to tremble.

"Lily Evans! My, my, my, you are a hard witch to pin down. Dumbledore's got you under lock and key, has he? Trying to keep you hidden away?"

The tree directly behind them exploded, and branches rained down on them.

"No matter. I always find what I am looking for, in the end."

The voice was only a meter or so away now, and James chanced a glance around the boulder. They were six Death Eaters assembled now, all unmasked in expectation of an easy victory. There was Bellatrix Black, now Lestrange he remembered; the burly, bordering on obese figures of Crabbe and Goyle; MacNair, the psychopath, always cutting up the frogs and rabbits he caught when they were in school; Regulus Black, who was looking at his feet, his skin a sallow green; and the one whose sneering voice he should have recognized before: Severus Snape. In the middle of them all, though, was an otherworldy pale and spindly figure, with blood red eyes and slits for a nose, his angular face serpent-like. The hand brandishing his deadly wand was hideously skeletal in a way that made James feel sick.  _Voldemort._

A maniacal, girlish giggle rang through the forest. "Oh, my Lord, how clever you are," Bellatrix cooed, her voice dripping with nauseating admiration and adoration.

"Shut up, girl," Voldemort hissed, "I am here on important business." He raised his voice so that it would carry throughout the forest once more. "Lily Evans, there is nowhere to run. So listen now: I have heard a great many things about you. The favorite of all your teachers, Head Girl despite all of those with superior blood pitted against you, top of your class. Severus here," James let out a low hiss at the name, "Has also told me of your, shall we say,  _creativity._ " Lily looked at James with wide, guilty eyes. "Oh yes, he has told me all about how you experimented in school together, of all those spells and potions you crafted together. I have seen them on the battlefield, myself, your ingenuity at work. Just think what you could accomplish if that fool Dumbledore took off those chains tying you down, if you were able to study the Dark Arts and harness all of that power." He said the last word with such lust that turned James's stomach. "I am very much aware of your blood status, girl, but who am I to turn down such  _talent?_

"So I extend to you now the offer of a lifetime: lay down your wand, and join me. I will forgive your blood status, and give everything you need to become a true sorceress. Join me, and you will finally be free."

"I could never be free with the likes of you!" Lily shouted furiously, standing up from the boulder and shooting a barrage at curses at the surrounding Death Eaters, before James pulled her back down.

"You're going to get yourself  _killed,_ " he hissed at her angrily, before noticing that she was shaking and there were tears forming in her eyes that she was blinking away rapidly. He let go of her, knowing he was the last person she wanted to be seen breaking down in front of. He peeked around the boulder once again.

"What a shame," Voldemort tutted, while a few of his lackeys snickered. James noticed that Snape was staring straight ahead, stony-faced. "It seems you will be following in your dirty Muggle parents' footsteps after all." Voldemort was grinning cruelly while the rest of the Death Eaters laughed loudly this time. "But, of course, I almost forgot about Mister Potter. You were raised in a blood traitor household, of course. But the purest of blood still runs through your veins. I have also heard from my followers of your time at Hogwarts, of the trouble you got into and the, how shall I say it,  _punishment_  that you handed out to those students who you found to be lesser than you. Very impressive." James felt like he was going to throw up. To be reminded of  _that_ , and as if it was something to be  _praised_ …

Voldemort continued, "I would like to extend the same offer to you: lay down your wand and join me. Now, I know that you are a Quidditch boy, so I will offer you a kind of  _signing bonus._  I have also heard from those who attended Hogwarts with you how you lusted after Miss Evans,  _obsessed_  is how many put it. Since Miss Evans has refused to serve any  _real_  purpose, I would like to give her to you as a  _gift_. I say once again: join me. Join me, and give into your  _baser instincts_."

James's heart was beating so fast in his chest he was surprised it didn't pop right out. He wanted to shout at Voldemort, to curse him with every foul word he knew until he was blue in the face, but his mouth had dried up and he was frozen.

"Nothing to say, Mister Potter?" Voldemort called to him again. "Oh Severus, don't look so glum, you know that if he declines that you get the Evans girl. And either way, I'm sure we could persuade Mister Potter to  _share_ -"

"Oh  _fuck you_!" James and Lily both shouted at the same time, shooting off curses around the boulder they were hiding behind. They grinned at each other briefly before they cringed under the barrage of curses that was sent at the boulder. Miraculously it was not blasted apart, although Lily was now slumped against it.

"Are you okay? What are you doing?" James hissed at her, shaking her shoulders roughly as the light behind her eyes flickered briefly.

"Another one of your creations," the cruel voice boomed once again, in an appreciative tone, "What a fascinating mind you must have. Pity I will have to kill you."

"It won't hold against the Killing Curse if he tries that next," Lily whispered to him, "We have to get out. When I say when, run for the hills, literally. I'll be right behind you."

"But-"

She was ignoring him again, muttering to herself, "Merlin, I hope this works." Then she flourished her wand, jabbing it sharply a dozen times so that little fiery orbs were floating in the air. She cupped her hands around her mouth and whispered to them, so quietly that James almost didn't catch it, " _Ignis mittere!"_

The orbs flew from them in every direction, and Lily yelled at him, "Now, James!" Everything erupted in fire as the orbs collided all around the forest surrounding them, earth and trees flying through the air as a dozen explosions rocked the earth. Instead of just taking off, James grabbed Lily's arm and dragged her behind him.  _Like hell he was going to leave her._

The Death Eaters were on their tail, but the explosions and succeeding fire had covered the area in an impenetrable fog of smoke and ash. James conjured Bubble Charms for them both, and continued to drag Lily blindly through the forest. They were tumbling over fallen branches and scrambling up a steep slope, but then they were over the hill and outside of the anti-apparition wards. Just as a series of curses started flying towards them, James wrapped Lily in his arms and apparated away.

* * *

With a crack, they appeared in the alley next to the Mucky Duck. Their arms still wrapped around each other, the two stood frozen, bodies still slightly quivering with fear and adrenaline, their eyes clenched tight. They were both afraid to open them, to see whether they had really made it back alive (because they were only half sure they had.)

Lily was the first one to open her eyes. She looked around her, eyes widening with awe as she took in the dirty walls and grimy street. She inhaled the putrid scent, breathing it in reverently, as if she was sniffing roses. It had to be the most wonderful thing she had ever smelled because it meant  _they were alive._

It was then she realized whose arms she was in as she looked up at James's scrunched up face. She let herself revel for a moment in his warmth, in the closeness of another human being (in the closeness of him). But she had to break the moment because she didn't want to celebrate alone, she wanted to share this victory, to watch James take in this beautiful world (this stinking alley) because  _fuck_  they had made it.

"Potter!" she whispered, before realizing that there was no longer any reason to whisper. "Potter!" she said, louder this time, a smile in her voice, "Just in case you were curious, we are not at the gates of Heaven, or Hell in your case, just a dirty alleyway."

James's eyes popped open at her voice, a wide grin settling on his face as he looked down at her. "Merlin, I've never been this happy to be standing by a dumpster," he laughed, his tensed shoulders relaxing in relief. Lily laughed with him, spurred on by the way his chest shook against her. Both flooded with that great sense of relief and just wow, they disentangled themselves quickly so that they could jump, run, yell, scream. James walked up and down the alleyway, bouncing really, as he punched the air, shouting,  _"Yeah! Fuck yeah! We're alive!"_

Lily doubled over, laughing half at his antics and half in hysterical relief. She felt the strange urge to lay down on the ground and make snow angels in the grime because that's the first thing she could think of to express this overwhelming childlike joy and wonder that was bubbling up inside of her. James ran over to her, picking her up in his arms again and swinging her around in a circle. "We're alive, Evans, we're alive!" he continued to chant, giving her a big goofy grin. He set her on the ground, hands on her waist now, and said once again with that crooked grin, "We're alive."

They stared at each other, eyes sparkling and smiles wide. Both of their bodies were buzzing with adrenaline, high on life and that escape and a general sense of  _what the fuck just happened._  And once again they were overtaken by a need to shout their victory to the rooftops, feeling so invincible that they were sure they could fly away if they tried, like they could do  _anything_.

And they both decided (although it was not really a decision, just an overpowering impulse and  _need)_  that the  _anything_  they needed to do right now was snog each other senseless.

James shoved Lily against the grimy wall of they alleyway at the same time that her hands flew into his messy curls, latching on and pulling his face to hers as she plunged her tongue into his mouth. They came crashing together, these two invulnerable, unyielding forces, fighting for dominance as they clashed. They were all roving hands and hungry lips, needing to touch every inch of each other, wanting the reassurance that the other was real, that they were actually here, that they had actually  _done it._

James was cupping that gloriously perky arse of hers, considering writing a thank you note to whoever had come up with the design for these skin-tight trousers because they left  _nothing_  to the imagination and it was bloody brilliant. Lily was pressing her body against him encouragingly, his brain going static-y as her tits rubbed against his chest and  _Merlin how had he gone so long without touching her._  She was everything, everywhere, their breath mingling with sighs and laughs and just _fuck_  she was  _divine._

And he needed to make sure that she felt the same way because  _damn_  they were amazing together, and all of the shit they had just gone through was worth it because the way she kept deepening the kiss, drawing him in with every stroke of her tongue, was just  _bloody spectacular._  So he wrapped his hands around the back of her thighs, his fingers teasingly getting close but  _not close enough_  as he insistently ran his hands up and down the inside of her legs.

(She was going to hate him for that and he loved it.)

Lily let out a hum of frustration as the ghost of a touch set off that heat inside of her, set off that deep yearning that made her squirm against him (and he was grinning smugly against her lips, knew exactly what he was doing to her).  _Prick_ , she thought crossly as he continued to tease her with his (irritatingly, undeniably) talented hands. The way they moved together was so in sync, so  _right_  even as she was yelling at herself that he was dangerous, wildly trying to remind herself of all the reasons it would never work. But  _bloody hell those hands_ , his touch was just intoxicating, and she desperately needed more. (More from him, more  _of_  him).

She grabbed the collar of his shirt to drag him closer to her as she leant back against the wall, dragging her teeth across his lips as she attempted to pull him further into her web. "Come on, Potter, I know you've been fantasizing about this all week," she goaded him in between kisses, grinning wickedly as she saw his pupils dilate with lust when she began to roll her hips against him, "Rumor has it you've been taking a  _lot_  of cold showers lately."

James let out a growl against her neck as he moved to nip at it, squeezing her arse tightly as he roughly pulled her against him.  _So she was going to play dirty, was she?_  he thought hotly (although the anger wasn't real, he was just burning because it reminded him of that addicting chase he'd been running the past ten years, and he was ready to play again)."Keeping tabs on me, Evans?" he asked in a husky voice (growing harder as he imagined her imagining him naked in the shower because that was just  _wicked)_.

"I like to stay informed," she replied loftily (although the last word hiked up an octave when James slid his hand past the elastic waistband of her leggings to get a firmer grip on her bum), "Knowledge is power after all. So am I right?"

"Well, I'm not going to argue the point, am I?" he smirked at her as he tried to simultaneously pull her skin-tight trousers down and undo his own belt, hands fumbling in between them (he wasn't quite how far she'd let him go, but never hurt to try did it?), "I'm getting laid either way, yeah?"

"Merlin, Potter!" she cried out, pushing him away lightly. She had to hold back a laugh when he immediately adopted a pout just like some spoiled child who had his favorite toy taken away. "I'm not going to shag you in some alleyway!"

James's stomach dropped for a moment, and he glared at her. (Was she playing the same game as him? Had he misread her?) "I swear to Merlin, Evans, if you're just having one over on me, I will burn your entire collection of Jane Austen novels," he huffed, painfully aware of the way he was straining against his trousers.  _Well if I hadn't needed a cold shower earlier, I sure as hell will need one now,_  he thought bitterly as she continued to laugh at him. (And he felt a prick to his ego, no man wanted to be laughed at after a good snog, did they?)

Lily rolled her eyes, "First of all, I've had a fireproof charm on my books since you made that _exact_  same threat in fourth year. You should really try to get some more original threats, you're becoming rather predictable." He just glared at her in reply, and she laughed again. (Merlin it was fun to toy with him.) "And second, I said just not in an alleyway, you dunce. Come on then!" Lily giggled as she watched his face turn from irritation to confusion to boyish glee in an instant, grabbing his hand and running towards that back entrance of the Safe House.

The second they clambered past the door to the back stairwell, James had Lily pressed against the wall again, the handrail digging into her spine. "Predictable, am I?" he murmured huskily against her throat as he ravished it with his lips. She snorted in reply, making his head shoot straight up so he could look at her incredulously. See, he had never had a woman snort at him as he seduced them before and wasn't quite sure what to make of it.

"First an alleyway, then a stairwell?" Lily laughed at him (although she was mostly laughing at how incredibly insulted he looked at that moment, you would have thought someone had finally told him the truth about his hair or something), "You sure know how to treat a lady."

He got that arrogant, wicked grin back at her words, pulling her body flush against his so he could murmur in her ear, "Well, Lily Evans, I never took you for a lady."

Lily glared at him, trying in vain to fight the shiver the words had set off (because it felt like a challenge, made her want to show him just how far from a lady she truly was). "I hate you, you know," she grumbled back at him (although the effect was lost when her eyes closed and she let out a sharp gasp as he rubbed against her roughly.)

"I hate you too," he murmured again, fitting every ounce of angst and longing and confusion into those four words, "Doesn't mean I'm not going to fuck you senseless, though."

Lily's breath hitched, and she closed her eyes again as she tried to sort out her whirling thoughts because  _fuck_  she was just about ready to let him do whatever the hell he wanted to her but  _dammit Lily get it together, you still have standards._

She took a deep, shaky breath, keeping her eyes closed because she knew if she looked into those hungry hazels who knows how far she'd be willing to go. "James Potter, I am  _not_  fucking you in a stairwell," she said evenly, trying to ignore the way his hands were currently working their way up her shirt as he sucked at a sensitive part of her neck, "So I need you to get me to your room in the next five seconds or  _so help me Merlin-"_

James didn't wait for her to finish her sentence, merely grabbed her hand and pulled her behind him as he rushed up the stairs and down the winding hallways to his room. They were laughing again, an adrenaline-fueled euphoria overtaking them as they paused every few steps to steal a kiss, to release a wandering hand, to tease and touch and whisper promises of everything they were going to do to each other.

They finally reached the door to his room, and James just about threw Lily onto the bed. She bounced into the mattress, and stretched against it while her brain fogged up for a moment as she remembered all the fantasies that had been stealing her sleep the last couple of weeks, most of which took place on this exact same bed. A shiver went down her spine as she recalled everything she had fantasized about, all the ways she had dreamed of him touching her, of where his lips had roamed…

She was immediately pulled back into the present as James pulled his shirt over his head and  _holy hell_  she did not remember him looking this fit the last time. He had the kind of abs that were so pronounced they formed an arrow, pointing right towards where James's hands were currently fumbling with his belt as he slid it from the loops of his trousers. Lily felt a thrill shoot through her, searing right to her core as she remembered what James had felt like, all he had done to her, and she felt her heat growing in anticipation.

James's eyes were trained on her as he stepped out of his boxers, reading the desire in her eyes as she watched him slink towards her. He felt powerful, like a lion stalking his prey, except that the way Lily was reclining on the bed and licking her lips made it evident that she was more than willing to be consumed. Every muscle in his body felt tense, coiled tight as he prepared to pounce.

And then he was on top of her, hands pulling out her braids and working at the buttons of her flannel shirts even as he simultaneously plunged his tongue past her lips and began moving against her. James got the flannel off of her and immediately started working his lips across her collarbone, fingers working deftly to undo the clasp of her simple cotton bra. And then there they were,  _holy fucking hell,_  those amazing tits of hers that were flushed a breathtaking peach-y cream.

"You should never wear a shirt again," James muttered against her as he buried his face in her chest, "These are a piece of art, it's got to be sacrilegious to hide them away." Lily giggled, although it turned into a moan as he latched onto one of her nipples, tugging at the tender bud with his teeth. James felt smug satisfaction as she arched her back into him, panting as he moved onto the next breast while still massaging the other with his free hand.

As James returned his lips to hers ( _Merlin, where did he learn to do that with his tongue?_ ) Lily traced her hands up and down first the roping muscles of his back, and then around to the tense muscles of his chest (she thanked Moody in her mind for designing such a rigorous Auror training program); her nimble fingers followed the arrow down his body that she had been ogling not long ago, humming her appreciation as she went. Her hands moved lower, until they were sliding over his cock, and she let out a breathy oh as she felt the evidence of his desire for her (in her mind thinking  _wow wow wow_  because her memory had definitely not served him justice and _wow_ ). As Lily's breath hitched higher under James's own wandering hands (and her own fantasies as she continued to stroke his pulsing cock), she began to feel that overwhelming _need_ , like she was going to just melt away if he didn't touch her right then. Releasing his erection, she swung a leg around his hips, moving against him in a way that said  _dammit get a move on already!_

James was trying to keep himself distracted so he wouldn't start hyperventilating or something equally pathetic as Lily's petite hands played with his cock (he kept on reminding himself that this wasn't a big deal, he had already gotten farther with her before, but it wasn't keeping him from feeling like he was going to explode any second.) When she hitched her leg over his hip, James got the message (brain screaming  _she wants me she wants me)_ , moving his lips to her throat as he lowered his hands to her hips, running over her heady curves. "Fuck," he muttered frustratedly as he tried to pull her leggings down; skin-tight as they were, they were near impossible to slide off. "I hate these damn things."

"Didn't seem to mind them earlier," Lily reminded him mockingly as she watched his difficulty with a smirk (hoping that if she sounded cocky he wouldn't realize how completely under his spell she was because  _bloody hell_  she was a goner).

"Git," he muttered irritably in reply (how the hell was she keeping it together? He was absolutely  _losing it)_ , before shouting out a triumphant "Aha!" as he successfully ripped the leggings off, knickers following in a flash. He smirked at her as he ghosted his hand over her cunny, a light teasing touch that her knew would drive her mad (which she deserved after whatever the hell she had been doing with his cock only a moment ago).

She was glaring down at him, even as her legs quivered around him (bloody hell she was amazing, who else could stare down the man that was fingering her like that? He had always been impossibly turned on by her disapproving-Head-Girl looks, was part of the reason he had always gotten into so much trouble). "Are you just going to play with me all day?" she asked hotly, flinching every so often as his touch got  _so close_  but not close enough.

"Is Lily Evans begging for me, James Potter, to finger her?" he crooned with a wicked smile as he ran his finger around the rim of her entrance.

Lily let out a huff. "Well I  _was_  promised to be fucked senseless, and I have to say I'm a bit disappoint– _oh_!" she gasped the last part, flinging her head back as James thrust three fingers deep into her.

He moved slowly, intensely watching her reaction as he twisted his fingers against her wet warmth, completely captivated by the little pants she was making. "Gorgeous," James whispered unconsciously as he watched her crimson locks fan out around her, sheets twisted in her white fists as her back arched against him. Her eyes were closed and her mouth formed a perfect 'o', her face an artist's depiction of rapture. _Fucking perfect._

"Now where were we?" James drawled, still pumping his fingers out of her painfully slowly as she let out that delicious little whimper of hers.  _Merlin he wanted to fuck her so bad_  but he wanted to toy with her, to have her at his mercy for once in his goddamn life because having her writhe under his fingers while she cried for more was just  _everything_. "Ah yes, you were begging me for something," he continued, smirking when he saw her give her a look that was half hatred, half desperation.

"Are we really playing this game?" Lily huffed again, trying to ignore the way her body was humming from his touch because she  _hated_  that she was no longer the one in charge but  _fuck_  those  _hands._

"Aren't we always?" James murmured against her skin as he began to litter the soft skin of her stomach with kisses that made her body clench in response. He removed his fingers from her, instead running his hands up and down her inner thighs teasingly. He grinned up at her wickedly, "C'mon, I want to hear you say it."

"Dammit Potter," she hissed, cursing him in her mind with every insult she knew because  _fuck_  since when did he have such a hold over her? She hated him with everything she had, even as every fiber in her being pleaded for more of his touch.  _Fuck fuck fuck_  she was going to have to beg.

"Tell me what you want, Evans," James prompted again, leaning into her so that his prick was rubbing right against her entrance, his elbows on either side of her head. He stared down at her intensely, a smirk twisting his handsome face; he wanted to watch her plush lips form the words, needed to capture every moment of this victory. (Needed to remember every day for the rest of his life the time that Lily Evans had begged for him.)

"I need you," Lily gasped, closing her eyes as she was overwhelmed by the feeling of James pressing up against her clit and  _damn him_. "I need you inside of me,  _now_."

And James swore he had never been harder in his entire fucking life, was completely lost as he thrust into her, burying himself into her full to the hilt. He saw her eyes pop wide open, mouth slightly open in a gasp and her hair flying wildly around her. And then she let out that whimper again that nearly turned him inside out and _damn she was perfect_.

He titled his head down so he could watch as he entered her, thrusting into her over and over again, slow at first because she was still getting used to the feel of him. She was tight, s _o goddamn fucking tight_ , a reminder of how innocent she still was, how untouched.

He had been her first and  _fuck_  James never wanted to share her, never again. He was overwhelmed by a need for her to be his, for the sense of ownership, partnership that he'd always dreamed of, worked for,  _begged_  for. But he knew she would never be his, not outside of his four-poster bed, not in the way he wanted, but for now, in this moment, she was his, only his.

"Tell me it's only been me," James growled as he pounded into her at a harder, faster, stronger pace.

In that moment, Lily couldn't even remember that there was a world outside this bed, let alone that there was another man that she'd ever want to have touch her this way. He was buried deep in her, and it was true, he was the only one who had ever gotten to touch her that way, to thrust against her pulsing warmth.

"It's only ever been you," Lily gasped in reply, fingernails digging into his shoulders as she hung on for dear life, her cries and gasps matching his savage pace. She felt him everywhere, sparks shooting all the way down to her toes as he moved against, as she matched him stroke for stroke with her own rolling hips.

 _Damn straight_ , James thought hungrily, greedily as he drove into her. Merlin, he knew he was being a possessive asshole but Lily had always turned him a unique brand of stupid and fuck if it wasn't ten times worse when she was quivering under his touch. And he knew what he needed then, needed to hear her say his name, to shout it, because she was  _his_  (and he was hers, always hers).

And as she let out a loud cry as he hit just  _there_ , he knew she was almost there, and he pressed her hips further into the mattress, thrusting into her powerfully as he drove her over the edge.

_"James…"_

And the world ended for him.

* * *

He couldn't fucking believe her. Not five minutes after the greatest sex of his goddamn life, there she was, shimmying into her trousers and hooking her bra like nothing had happened. As he lay in the empty bed, he felt a strong sense of déjà vu.

"Are you fucking kidding me, Evans?" he asked her angrily, "Again?"

"What?" Lily asked, surprised at the venom in his tone. He was still sprawled across the bed, the sheets that covered him as much of a mess as his wild hair.  _Damn_  those abs of his looked even better when they were glistening with sweat. She turned her back as she buttoned up her shirt; she couldn't afford to get distracted at the moment.

"Do you throw all of your shag mates away this quickly after you're done with them?" James replied hotly as she turned her back on him.

Ah, there it is.  _That was rich coming from him._

"As much as you'd like to believe otherwise, Potter, the world didn't stop turning just because you're a good shag," Lily scoffed, hiding her own hurt ( _what a fucking reminder_ ) behind harsh words.

(It was a lie, though. Her world  _had_  stopped turning.  _Damn him._ )

"So you admit I'm a good shag?" James asked, unable to keep the smug grin off of his face. (Maybe if she sang his praises he could forgive the many ways she had bruised his ego over the years. At least for the moment, yeah?)

Lily rolled her eyes at him.  _Arrogant bastard_. "Well I'm not dead, am I?" she said reluctantly.

He was still smirking at her.  _Prick._

"Anyways, I have to go and meet with Dumbledore," she continued, tying up her boots, "He'll be wondering why I haven't reported there yet. He's expecting me."

She was right, James realized regretfully, they needed to give their mission report. "Well, wait up then," he told her as he swung his legs over the bed, searching for his shirt, "I should be there for the report too, right?"

"Erm," Lily awkwardly began, "Actually, I think I'll just go on my own, yeah? I can fill him in on everything. And anyways, I have some other things to talk about with him."  _Like my wards._

James seemed to read her mind. "Like that weird spell that you cast on me? And the boulder? What the hell was that? You looked like you were going to be sick."

"It's just something that I've been working on," she replied dismissively, hoping he would leave it alone.

But this was James Potter, after all, and he was never one to let things go.

"It's your ward, isn't it?" he asked heatedly, "The one I helped you with? Merlin, Evans, you can't _really_  expect to make that work, do you? You could barely keep it together and you were only warding a few people."

"It wasn't just a few people," Lily snapped, "And anyways, it's none of your goddamn business is it?"

"It's my business if you get yourself killed!" James argued. (Merlin, did she really think he didn't care?) "How many people were you warding, then?"

She didn't reply, just busied herself braiding her hair again.

Her silence spoke for itself, though. "You're protecting the whole Safe House, aren't you?" James said angrily, incredulously. "Even now, right? Merlin, are you an idiot or something? There's no way you can keep this up!" She was just ignoring him, fixing her shirt and her hair, and he wanted to scream. Didn't she realize how dangerous this was? "And another thing,  _Evans,_  if you go and get yourself offed then you're pretty much killing us all as well, yeah?"

Finally, he got a rise out of her.

"First of all, _Potter,_  I repeat once again that this is  _none of your goddamn business_. Second, if  _Dumbledore himself_  believes that I can do this, then forgive me if I take his word over yours. And finally,  _you don't know me_. You have  _no idea_  what I'm capable of." Lily glared fiercely at James, her arms folded across her chest as she took a fighter's stance.  _How dare he_ , she thought furiously,  _As if I don't feel every single one of their fucking heartbeats every moment of the fucking day._ She sure as hell knew what was at stake.

But James was fed up because  _of course_  Lily would never trust him, never give him the time of day, never care enough about him to be completely honest  _for once in her goddamn life._  "Whatever, Evans," he replied brusquely, dismissively, "But don't come crying to me when you fuck everything up again, yeah?"

Lily felt her face turning red, felt like screaming at him, hitting him, doing anything to make him take it back. (But she refused to let him see how much he affected her, how much she hurt). So instead she said evenly, coldly, "Don't worry, I promise you'll never have to see me cry again." She made her way to the door, making sure she swung her hips just so to ensure he was paying close attention to her departure. Just before she closed the door behind her, she looked over her shoulder and said slyly, "Oh, and Potter? Til next time, yeah?"

Lily laughed at his stupefied face the entire way to Hogwarts.

_Idiot._


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all once again for your patience with my slowish updates! I am in the middle of taking care of my mother (whose near-death experience was the cause of last week's family crisis) and preparing for a cross-country move (I'm gonna be living alone in the city and I can't freaking wait). Between both of those, I am completely swamped so updates may be a bit sporadic for the next month or so. However, I already have most of next week's chapter written so that shouldn't take too long! Thank you for all of the lovely reviews, you really make my day, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

 

15.

  

Lily braced herself against the sink in the room directly across from the operating room of the Hospital Wing. It was a new installment in the Safe House, a necessity as the war grew bloodier and more dangerous. The redheaded witch had found herself clocking more and more hours in the Hospital Wing, enough that if she was working for a legitimate hospital she would have just about met the requirements for a Healer internship. If Lily had ever possessed a desire to be a Healer, though, it had definitely been squashed after all of the horrors she had seen, all of the bloody bodies they were _just_ able to piece back together. It was depressing, horrifying, terrifying. 

Tonight, however, Lily was unable to pin down a single emotion to describe what she was feeling as she looked at her hands that were wrapped around the edge of the sink, crusted in dried blood. 

Someone had died, yes. Lily had held her limp hand as the life drained out of her exhausted body, had heard the words of comfort she was whispering to her broken-down husband die on her lips. She had seen the woman’s eyes close for the last time. 

But then there had been a cry. A wail, more like, the kind of sound the Lily felt like making every time she read one of the headlines in the Daily Prophet. A question cried out to the universe: What is this world? Why am I here? 

It was the cry of a baby, the first cry of a new life even as his mother gave up hers. 

Because it had truly been a sacrifice. 

Celepheus Wood had formerly been Celepheus Sayre, a descendant of an infamous blood-traitor family. She had met Anthony Wood, a professional footballer, when she got lost on the way to a Puddlemere United game, of which she was a season-ticket holder. Two years later they had married, and Anthony had been welcomed into the Sayre family with open arms. Celepheus soon became pregnant, and everyone in the family rejoiced; however, when news had gotten around in certain pureblood circles that the pristine Sayre family line (still viewed as such despite being blood traitors) was going to be dirtied with the offspring of a Muggle, the family had become a target. 

The majority of the Sayre family were able to get out of the country soon after the attacks of Sancta Nox, finding refuge with their relatives in America; however, Celepheus insisted on staying and protecting Anthony’s Muggle family against the coming storms of war. The pregnancy, as well, made it incredibly risky to take on one of the many perilous pilgrimages out of the country. Instead, the Wood family went deep into hiding in Muggle Scotland, doing everything short of snapping their wands to make sure they would not be found out. 

It was by pure luck that Benjy stumbled onto to them one day in the local markets, following a lead on a possible ally in a Squib who lived in the area. The wizard recognized Celepheus from one of the annual balls held that the American branch of the Sayre family held at Ilvermorny; the British Sayres made the trip every year to be reunited with their distance relatives across the pond. Benjy had shared a dance, a laugh, and a kiss many years ago with a young Celepheus, and the witch had been filled with immense joy and relief at seeing such a friendly and familiar face. 

Through this meeting, Benjy told the Wood family all about the Safe Houses across Britain, a way to keep families who were at risk but unwilling to leave their home country safe. The closest one happened to be that of Inverness, and within a week the young couple was preparing to make the journey to safety. However, the day before the Woods were scheduled to travel to the Safe House, their home nearly packed, the Death Eaters somehow found them. 

The Woods were outnumbered and outmatched by the Death Eaters that came storming at their doorstep. During the hopeless battle, one of the Death Eaters shot a Cruciatus Curse at the eight-month pregnant Celepheus. Hearing his wife’s screams, Anthony had jumped in front of her and taken the brunt of the curse; however, the damage was already done: the stress of such an evil spell had immediately induced labor. 

It was sheer, dumb luck that Dorcas had decided to stop by the Woods’ home at just the same time to make sure the Woods were all ready for the transfer; she managed to fight her way into the fray and apparate the family out safely.

Or, at least, in one piece, because there was nothing safe about the amount of blood loss Celepheus had suffered, how the contractions seemed to be ripping her in two. Those on call in the Hospital Wing did everything they could, but it came down to a decision: either the mother or the child was going to survive this birth. 

Celepheus and Anthony Wood had chosen the baby. 

And so, as Lily felt one of the heartbeats she had accepted into her own fade into nothingness, a new one emerged, so soft it was like a whisper. Little Oliver Wood, brought into a crumbling world, crying in the bewildered arms of his father as his mother’s cold body lay a mere foot away. 

Lily was not sure they had done the baby a justice. 

She wasn’t sure she understood it. Why did they choose the boy? The second he took a breath, Oliver Wood had a target on his back simply because of the blood that ran through his veins. He would be hunted because of a heritage that his father had only an inkling of, that he would never truly understand. He would be without a mother, would carry the weight of her death on his shoulders for the rest of his life. He would face the realities of war every day, a painted tapestry of horror made up of blood spilled, and that which still pumped through his veins. 

Who would want to bring a baby into such a messed up world? 

Lily barely wanted to live in it herself. 

She let out a long sigh, a breath that shuddered through her body. Was she fucked up for thinking these things? She had no idea, had nothing to measure normal against anymore. She couldn’t even say what decision she would make if she were in the same situation. 

She prayed that she would never have to know. 

She couldn’t think about it anymore, though. Lily had learned to give herself a total of five minutes to brood over whatever fresh hell she had seen in the Hospital Wing that day, five minutes to scream and cry and throw things against the wall, before she shut the event tight in a box and threw it in the farthest corners of her mind. She had to accept that she had done her best for whatever person had been in her care, and that there was nothing she could do to change what had happened. 

And anyways, there was always a new tragedy to take its place. 

So, after another twelve and a half seconds of deep breathing, Lily straightened her back and reached for the flowery (yet surprisingly strong antibacterial) soap that Ellie liked to make in one of the vacant rooms in her off time, turning on the faucet and working on washing herself off. She lathered herself all the way up to the elbows and scrubbed, taking extra care to scrape the blood out from under fingernails, always a tough spot to get. 

She was startled, nearly dropping the soap, when there was a knock on the door. “It’s open!” she called to the mystery intruder, thankful that her five minutes were already up. When people saw Lily panicking, they tended to panic, and she was already pulling at the seams with the effort of keeping this place together. She didn’t need a crisis of faith on her hands. 

The redhead was even more surprised, though, when Anthony Wood walked through the door. “Er, I hope this is okay,” he said awkwardly, standing halfway in, halfway out of the room as if he still didn’t quite feel comfortable entering the witch’s domain. “I just – I just didn’t know who else to ask.” 

Lily dried off her hands, doing her best to adopt the motherly, comforting smile that she had given to so many mourning family members before. “It’s quite alright, Anthony, please come in. Take a seat,” she said, gesturing to one of the beaten folding chairs that surrounded a card table, all that made up the Hospital Wing “break room”. “Now, what is it you wanted to talk about?” _Please let it be the weather_ , she prayed silently. She needed a soft ball, an easy win at the moment. She could do weather. 

“You’re Muggleborn, right?” Anthony asked in his thick Scottish brogue (charming, on any other day), although it was obvious he already knew the answer to the question. Lily nodded in confirmation anyways (and gave an internal sigh because no conversation involving the word ‘Muggleborn’ was an easy one, these days). He continued, “Well, I was just – I wanted to know – how do you do it?” 

Lily squinted her eyes at him and tilted her head, studying him. “Do what?” she asked, confused but also a bit curious about the conversation now, despite herself, “Be Muggleborn?”

Anthony only halfway nodded, seemingly changing his mind partway through. “Kind of, I guess. Just, how do you straddle two worlds like that?” he asked, playing with hands nervously, anxiously, uncertainly. _The look of a man who had entered a game that he did not know the rules of_ , she thought. Despite his nervousness, though, he continued, “It’s just, I’m only a Muggle, right? But I want my little boy, _our_ little boy, to grow up in the wizarding world. So how do I keep him connected, like?” 

Lily looked at with a vague sense of bewilderment. “Excuse if this seems rude,” she said, “But why would you want him to grow up in our world? You’ve seen what it’s like, what it did to Celepheus.” 

“Well, that’s exactly it, isn’t it?” Anthony asked in reply, “It was Celepheus’s world. I feel like I would be doing her memory a disservice if I kept him from it. Not to mention those bastards who killed her would win then, wouldn’t they” 

“A baby is not a political statement,” Lily replied tersely, narrowing her eyes a tiny bit in disapproval. 

“On the contrary,” the Scotsman replied to her, his voice suddenly very serious, full of strength and determination, “Children are this world’s future. That makes them the greatest political statement of them all.” 

Lily was shocked by his statement. Once again she was faced with a question she did not have the answer to. Would she want her own child to be kept away from the magical world if it kept him safe? Would she let other people deny him that heritage, that birth right, even if it was the only way to save him? She just couldn’t say. 

And because of this Lily realized she could not pass judgment on Anthony Wood’s decision. All she could pass was information, advice, what some people (not her) might call wisdom. 

With a sigh, Lily began to explain the way of the world to this stranger in a new land. “It’s hard to bridge the Muggle and the wizarding worlds,” she told him, a hint of regret in her voice, “And because I wasn’t even aware that magic was real until I was nine years old, I’m afraid I don’t have much advice on how to raise a baby, or even a toddler, going back and forth between the two worlds.” He looked crestfallen for a moment, and Lily continued quickly, “But that doesn’t mean I don’t have anything to say, have anything to give. My parents, see, they were _fantastic_. Did their best to make the transition for me easier, make it more normal, less _freakish_.” Lily winced a bit at the use of the word, a flush of memories pouring through her that she had to tamp down. “They each chose something they understood really well, and then related it to something I was learning about in the wizarding world. Because they had so much background knowledge, it wasn’t too much of a stretch to simply add some magic to the mix. Mum loved flowers, owned a flower shop and everything,” she explained, smiling at the memory, “And Dad was a brilliant cook. So Mum asked me a lot about Herbology, had me take her to some of the apothecary shops and greenhouses out in Diagon Alley. She loved hearing about all of the strange, fantastical things that these plants did. Would even steal my Herbology textbooks when I was home for the holidays. And with Dad, well, it’s only a short hop and a skip from cooking to brewing. A perfect mix of precision and intuition, yeah? So he would have me explain everything I was learning in Potions class, was right proud when I got top marks every year. So that’s what I suggest then: take one thing you know like the back of your hand, one thing you absolutely love, and make that your bridge. Everything comes easier after that.” 

Lily hadn’t spoken this much about her parents in years, and it reawakened that ache in her chest, the clawing pain of missing them. For the first time, though, the ache didn’t take her breath away, didn’t make her feel the need to crawl into a ball and hide from the world. It wasn’t gone, she doubted it would ever be gone, but it had faded a bit with time the way everyone had promised it would. Talking about them still hurt, yes, but now she could also smile at the memories too. 

Lily looked at the man across from her appraisingly for a moment, trying to think of where in the wizarding world he would fit in. After a few seconds she asked, “You’re a footballer, yeah? Ever heard of Quidditch?” 

Anthony nodded eagerly, explaining that Celepheus had inducted him into the Puddlemere United fandom early on in their relationship, and they went on to have a fifteen minute discussion about the sport (during which Lily was barely hanging on, she knew jack shit about Quidditch outside of Hogwarts.) 

“Well, there you go then,” she told him after her ability to add anything to the conversation ran out, “There’s your bridge into the wizarding world right there. I have a few books on Quidditch if you’d like them. You have a couple of years to read up on this, yeah?” All of the books had been gifts from Marlene over the years, who had tried in vain to make a Quidditch fanatic out of Lily. 

“I’d love to see them. But oh no, Miss,” he said, shaking his head vigorously, the first smile she had seen him wear all night peeking at the corners of his lips, “My da had me playing with the football before I knew how to walk. If Oliver’s gonna be any good, we’ll have to start training tomorrow.” 

Lily had to resist the urge to roll her eyes because he was suddenly sounding very familiar. “Have you ever met James Potter, by any chance? I have a feeling you’d have a lot in common.” 

The redhead ended up showing Anthony out a couple minutes later, promising to get him those Quidditch books, and to introduce him to James in the morning as well. “Match made in heaven,” she chuckled as she watched him walk down the hallway towards the room where they were keeping Oliver, who was being watched by Mary currently. 

“Who?” a voice asked from across the hallway. Lily started; she hadn’t noticed the figure standing in the doorway. Her hackles lowered, however, when she took in the small witch with the tufty pixie-style haircut. 

“Anthony Wood and James Potter,” the redhead replied to her friend with a chuckle, “Both sports obsessed, positively nauseating.” 

Alice Longbottom grimaced sympathetically back at her, saying, “I praise Merlin every day that Frank was born with a greater interest in _Herbology Today_ than the current league standings. I don’t think our marriage could have withstood Quidditch talk at the dinner table.”

“I have no idea how we made it through seven years of sharing a room with Marlene,” Lily agreed, rolling her eyes to the heavens. Beater for the Gryffindor team for four years, their friend had been as Quidditch-obsessed as they come. 

It took Lily a moment to realize that she had just made a joke about Marlene; she couldn’t remember even mentioning her name since the funeral. All at once Lily felt like the air had been sucked out of the hallway. She slumped slightly against the wall. 

“It’s okay, you know,” Alice said softly, “To talk about her like that, fondly, happily. It doesn’t make her being gone okay. It just means that you’re remembering her in the way she’d want to be remembered. You can’t let her death define your memory of her.” Alice had come to lean against the wall next to Lily, their shoulders almost brushing. The small witch had never been much of a physical touch kind of person, had never been very outwardly affectionate, so having her this close was a great show of comfort and support. Lily was touched. 

“I just, now that I’ve seen _him_ , know what she was staring down as she died…” Lily shuddered visibly, “I keep on asking myself, how did I survive facing him and she didn’t? She was always the better dueler, always so much _stronger_ than me, so sure of herself. It just seems so unfair. I feel like _she_ should be the one standing here, not me. It doesn’t make sense.” 

“Death doesn’t make sense, Lily,” Alice told her with a small, sympathetic smile, “And it’s not fair, either. It never is.” 

Lily closed her eyes and nodded. She knew this, had always known this. But she had desperately needed someone to tell her. It made it feel actually true. 

It didn’t completely unburden the survivor’s guilt that had rested on Lily’s shoulders for weeks, but it sure made it easier to bear.

“And how do you sleep, Alice?” she asked when she was able to open her eyes again, “Knowing he’s out there? Voldemort?” It had been three days since she and James had survived their encounter with Voldemort, and she had hardly slept since then. When she did, she had nightmares about those blood red eyes, of those gnarled hands reaching out to touch her…Lily shivered at the mere memory of the dreams. She knew that her best friend was one of the few out there who had also faced down Voldemort, and lived to tell the tale. She was desperate to know how she was standing there, so cool and collected, how she was able to go back out in the field nearly every fucking day when Lily got an anxiety attack about the idea of leaving her bedroom. 

“We ran away, Frank and I,” Alice said matter-of-factly, the way she said everything. It did not lessen the startled look Lily gave her, emerald eyes widening, so she continued, “Just for a day, of course. We packed up our bags and went to Loch Leven, you know, with the castle that Mary, Queen of Scots, was exiled at.” 

Lily grinned ruefully at her friend for a moment. Alice had always been obsessed with the Scottish queen, was convinced that she had to be a witch, that there was no way she had pulled off so many daring escapes and escapades without magic (this was before the Statute of Secrecy, of course, when interfering in Muggle wars and government wasn’t technically illegal). In fact, Alice believed that the whole Tudor line was magical, some branch of the Lestrange family tree. The short witch could have written a book about all of her theories on the subject (and Lily was half convinced that she had a manuscript hidden in the apartment she shared with Frank).

“Stop laughing at me,” Alice chided, and when Lily objected that she wasn’t laughing, continued, “I can see it in your eyes, Evans. Anyways, we went to Loch Leven and simply _existed_. Did cliche tourist things, went swimming, ate a fancy dinner. I even wore a dress, Merlin help me. And we didn’t talk about it all, the war, not one word. Simply existed in a bubble of our own, for one night.” She paused for a moment, thoughtfully. “Of course, we didn’t bottle up our feelings or anything counterproductive like that. When we got back we went straight to the Magical Law Enforcement counselors, sorted out our issues posthaste. But we needed that break first before we were able to face all of the demons waiting for us in the world again.” 

“Merlin, Alice,” Lily chuckled, “When did you become so wise?” 

“You know that was always my role, Lily,” Alice said, once again in her trademark straightforward tone, “Marlene was the loud one, Ellie the strange one. Dorcas was tall, dark and handsome, and you were all of our mother. I was the wise one, the voice of reason.”

“I was _so_ not the mother,” Lily protested with a loud guffaw. 

“Lily,” Alice looked at her appraisingly, “You took care of us when we were sick. You waited up for us after we had dates. You knitted us all sweaters one year for Christmas, for Merlin’s sake. _You were the mother_.” 

“Whatever,” Lily mumbled in reply, still unconvinced (Merlin, what a trainwreck of a mother she’d be; she’d been wearing the same shirt for three days straight). 

“Anyways, love,” Alice said, nudging her with her shoulder, “I have to be off. Just wanted to catch up with you, make sure you were handling everything all right. Looks like I had nothing to worry about.” 

“Oh, you have plenty to be worried about,” Lily laughed self-deprecatingly, rearing herself to list off all of the ways that she was falling short, stumbling over her own two feet as she hopelessly tried to keep it together. But with another look at her steadfast friend, always so sure of herself, and of Lily too, she simply smiled and nudged her back, “Thanks, though. Let’s do it again sometime, yeah? Have me over for tea or something. I heard you and Frank got the fancy suite up on the fourth floor.” 

Alice made a face, “Me, Frank, and the ghoul. Living the dream.” 

“Kinky,” Lily laughed in reply as Alice swatted her. “Off with you now, go save the world or something!” 

Alice smiled back as her figure receded down the winding hallways, “You too, Lily, you too.”

 

* * *

 

Lily was not quite sure why she was standing in front of this particular door. It simultaneously felt like the worst decision she could have ever made and the only path she could have taken. An inevitable folly. 

It was all Alice’s fault really, what with all that talk of taking a break, and how she was the mother of the group, always fixing other people, and she couldn’t just _leave_ him, not when she knew how it was all eating him up inside, same as her. She wasn’t heartless. 

(Even though she knew he would disagree.) 

But Lily was determined to be a good person, dammit, so she rapped sharply on the door (much louder than she had intended; this is what happened when you tried to multitask while monologuing). 

“What the hell-,” was James’s gruff answer as he wrenched the door open. His hair was even more mussed up than usual, his glasses were hanging on by one ear, and he was only wearing his boxers. Judging by that, and the sleep he was rubbing out of his eyes under those lopsided glasses, she must have woken him. 

However, it only took a second for James’s entire being to transform as he took in Lily standing in front of him. His hand was in his hair, running through it so it looked like sex hair rather than that of a messy six year old who had never seen a comb. He leaned casually against the doorway, lithe as a panther ready to spring, and gave her a knowing smirk. His eyes looked hungry, mocking, maybe even the tiniest bit cruel. _This was a bad idea._ “Couldn’t stay away, Evans?” he questioned, the drawl in his voice perfectly matching the way he was draped against the doorframe, “Can’t say I’m surprised. Well, I suppose there are worse ways to get your morning started, come on in then-” 

Lily cut him off by covering his mouth with her hand. “Merlin, could maybe try not being a complete prick? For one second? I’m trying really hard to be a good person right now, and cursing you would be kind of counterintuitive to that.” After James mimed zipping his lips and throwing away the keys, the redheaded witch took a deep breath and continued, “So, I need to go back to Beauly Firth, you know, that beach you found me at? Dumbledore sent word that more kelpies have been coming in injured, and with all that’s going on with the sanctions against magical beasts they don’t really trust anyone else to help them. Tiree is bringing a couple up to the Firth in a couple of hours for me to start healing.” 

“And why do you need me for this?” he asked in a disinterested tone, and Lily could tell she was already losing him to the siren’s call of his bed. _Bloody hell, Potter, I’m just trying to help you-_

“Because you gave me shit the last time I went out alone,” she tried, hoping to trigger his sense of honor (did he even have that?) and his combative side (a much more likely candidate), “And you know as well as anyone it’s only gotten worse. You’re also the only one that knows about them, other than Dumbledore, and I don’t feel like explaining the whole thing all over again to someone else.” She crossed her fingers behind her back and prayed to Merlin that her explanation worked. 

He just continued to watch her fidget, a bemused expression on his face. 

“Look,” she said finally, “I don’t want to talk about us, or anything that’s happened, okay? Let’s just, I dunno, be fucking Bill and Candi again, yeah? Just take a break from the world. Go for a swim.” 

James continued to stare at her appraisingly, and she was just about to give up ( _ungrateful git)_ and leave when he said, “You do realize it’s February, right? The water will freeze our asses off.” 

Lily let out a light laugh and finally began to walk away. “Are you or are you not a wizard, Potter?” she asked teasingly, adopting her own smirk. As she moved down the hallway, she called over her shoulder, “Meet me in the alleyway in five, yeah? I’ll apparate us over.”

 

* * *

 

James wondered if it wasn’t all a dream, if he had ever actually woken up. If in five minutes his alarm would go off and he’d be back in his tiny bedroom in the Safe House, rolling out of bed to go dig through his dirty laundry for the least destroyed of his work robes. 

Because, really, how in the world could this be real? 

In the pale grey moonlight, Lily Evans looked like a timeless, otherworldly beauty. Her pale, slender body glowed in the night as nearly a dozen kelpies waded around her, their own sea of spring greens, emeralds, evergreens, and dusty greys. Her crimson locks had floated into soft waves in the salty air, a mirror image of the waves that ran across the little beach, chasing the young kelpie foals as they played in the surf. Her surprised laugh as one of the elderly, reedy grey kelpies moodily flicked her in the face with its mane carried over the firth, rippling the water as it sprang through the air. He couldn’t tell if the shimmery moonlight on the waves was reflecting that shine in her eyes, or if it was vice versa, but the way Lily’s eyes sparkled he was almost convinced it was the latter. And the way she smiled at him, full of warmth and peace and maybe a little something more, made his heart pulse. 

Like he said, unreal.

“So, why the Puddlemere United?” Lily asked over the flank of the irritable grey kelpie, ignoring its annoyed snorts as she applied her salve to the sore red welt that had snaked its way up its neck. 

James was still a bit taken aback by the way she was able to casually talk about such mundane topics while everything around them was so, well, _magical_. Was the little world she had carved out for herself so exceptional that this was just another day for her? If so, he was desperate to be caught in her orbit. 

The messy-haired wizard was also surprised at the path their conversation had taken in the first place. True to his word, James hadn’t brought up anything up their relationship (if you could call it that) or the war (a topic he was more than happy to avoid). However, it had been a long time since they had last played at Bill and Candi, and a lot (perhaps too much) had occurred since then; neither of them knew quite how to start up the easy friendship their alter egos had built with one another. James began to wonder why he had even come (he knew it was her, he never could say no to her, but _Merlin_ this was painful). 

After nearly an hour of stilted conversation (consisting mostly of Lily giving him directions on how to treat the kelpies and James desperately trying not to be an asshole about it all because, well, he usually couldn’t help himself around her), an inscrutable, almost nostalgic look crossed her face, and she had begun pelting him with question after question about Quidditch. 

James would probably have been less shocked if she had started asking him to describe the birds and the bees to her. Lily had knowingly picked a topic that would put _him_ at ease, even though she was a fish out of water when it came to discussing Quidditch. It floored him. At first James was suspicious of her motives (nothing was ever as straightforward as it seemed with the witch), but she appeared genuinely interested in the answers he gave her (even if he noticed that slight tilt to her head that meant she was battling some sort of feeling, some sort of grief). All he could think was _what the fuck had gotten into her?_  

After awhile, though, James finally decided just to roll with it; he had been starving for some Quidditch talk, addict that he was, and he did not have the type of job where they gathered around the water cooler to debate the league. Lily had some cursory background knowledge on the game that she had picked up at Hogwarts, but James was sorely disappointed at how patchy her knowledge really was. He had decided that it was up to him to correct this absurdity. 

“Well, it’s always been my family’s team,” James answered her as he stood waist-deep in the freezing water, goosebumps standing up on his arms in reaction to a chill that he couldn’t actually feel due to a Heating Charm. He was trying to wrangle one of the younger foals, who seemed to think this was all some sort of game and kept allowing James to get _almost close enough_ before it shot out between his arms. Lily let out a peal of laughter as he tripped through the water for the third time in a row, filling James with a completely different kind of warmth. After shooting her a glare (although he was just barely keeping back his own chuckle at the rascally little foal) and spitting out some of the water he had accidentally taken in, he continued, “We lived walking distance to their practice fields, used to go down every Sunday to watch them train. Dad was good friends with all of the managers and coaches, used to talk me up to them all the time.” He blushed a little at the memory; the only person more confident in James Potter than James Potter himself was his father. 

James could tell she was itching to ask him why he didn’t become a professional Quidditch player, but this conversation was already bordering on being too personal, too relevant. The answer was simple, but also happened to be the very topic they were trying to avoid: the war. So instead she gave him a soft smile, humming, “That’s lovely, truly.” 

The memories of all those sunny Sunday afternoons was making the back of his throat itch uncomfortably, so he let out a sharp cough as he tried to clear it before asking, “Who’s your team, then?” 

“The Chudley Cannons,” she said brightly with a smile, as if that were something to be proud of. 

James scoffed loudly, “ _The Cannons?_ No one in their right mind cheers for the Cannons! Merlin, I was always knew you were crazy but I never thought it was this bad.” 

“Stop being so dramatic,” she said, rolling her eyes at him, “I think they’re charming.” 

“You think losing is charming?” James asked incredulously. A million witty retorts sprang to his lips: _Maybe I should have tried that ages ago. Too bad I’m a natural born winner. That explains Snape, I suppose._ But for once he stayed silent, honoring their agreement (and his personal goal about the asshole thing). 

It seemed to work, because she rewarded him with a smile, as if they were both in on some joke, as if they were friends. “I find persistence rewarding,” she said slyly, “And I’ve never been able to resist a good underdog.” 

“I prefer my teams tried and true, thank you very much,” James replied, “I suppose then, your footie team or whatever it’s called is an underdog as well?” 

“Unfortunately not,” Lily said with a grimace, “They don’t even have the good graces to be a proper underdog. All the potential in the world, they’ve got, and they still muck it up every season.” 

“What team’s that, then?” he asked, “And why stick with them if they’re so useless?” 

“Tottenham Hostpurs,” the redhead answered with a long-suffering sigh, “And they were my first football match, yeah? Something sacred about that, I swear I imprinted on them or something like that. Can’t give ‘em up.” A sad look crossed her face, the light in her eyes dimming a bit. “And it was my dad’s team, too. Like I said, something sacred about it, right?” 

James nodded in understanding; he knew the legacy a family team left, the memories the players unknowingly carried on their shoulders. He still had the program from the first Puddlemere game his parents had taken him to (not that he could remember it much, he had been so little). 

There was a silence, then, both of them wrapped up in memories, good and bad. But James couldn’t take it for very long, had never had much patience for silent reflection, and knew he needed to break Lily out of her own head as well. 

As James had noticed before, he had always been a complete dunce when it came to Lily. So it was that his brilliant idea to cheer her up was to jump across the waves and grab her by her waist, dunking her into the freezing waters. 

“What the hell, James?!” Lily sputtered as she resurfaced, splashing water at his grinning face as he attempted to dry off his glasses, “Do you have a death wish?” 

When he was able to see again though, water droplets cleared away from his rectangular frames, James could see she was smiling right back.

 

* * *

 

The two of them stood on the pebbled beach together as they bade farewell to the kelpies, Lily promising to be back in two weeks to apply the salve again and James issuing threats to the young kelpie who had purposely stomped on his foot.

Many things were passing through James’s mind as he felt Lily lean into him. The obvious thoughts, of course, followed the general line of _the eyes and that hair and Merlin that swimsuit is much too small for her_. That was always his first reaction to any kind of close proximity to the witch.

The second round of thoughts, though, were much more confusing. Conflicting. Because he knew the second they apparated back to the Safe House again, they would be reentering the messy web that was James and Lily. She had used him, hurt him, shattered him into a million pieces, and he had done his best to do the same thing right back.

He hated her for what she had done. 

But all of this, he now realized, this entire night had been a gift to him. He had been spiraling since that last mission, hands shaking every time the new assignments were handed out now that he knew what was really out there. Evil was real, and he had looked it in the eyes and somehow, barely, had survived. He was scared shitless because he couldn’t help but think that that was it, all of his luck had been thrown into that one encounter, eight lives gone. He only had the one left. James had desperately needed to get out: out of the Safe House, out of the war, out of his own goddamn head.

And Lily had shown up like some fairy godmother, offering a gift in the form of a favor, saving him but letting him play the hero. 

All of a sudden he was overwhelmed with everything she was. A mind so bright it plucked brilliant, creative spells and potions out of thin air, with the ease of picking an apple from a tree. So determined to protect others, even people she barely knew, that she was sacrificing her own body (he could read it in the way she seemed to crumple when she thought no one was looking, crushed by a weight he couldn’t understand). Uncommonly kind, she was, reaching out to save the least deserving of them. Love wrapping itself around her as if it were her very DNA. 

He loved her for all that she was.

 And these two feelings weighed so equally upon his shoulders that he was paralyzed, unsure of what to do next. 

Lily was similarly frozen as she burrowed into James’s shoulder, pretending it was to fend off the cold (even though they had the Heating Charms still, damn them). She, too, didn’t know which was to turn. 

See, for Lily there were two paths set in front of her. One, in which she continued with her righteous anger, wearing her pain like armor to protect herself from ever being hurt again. Her heart was still devastated, left in tatters from the words James had wielded like weapons. How could she forgive what he had said? How could she ever trust him again? 

However, that first night they had together had allowed Lily a glimpse into something so beautiful it was breathtaking. She wondered if she could just let herself throw all of that pain away, just grab James’s hand and say _fuck it_. She wondered if then they would be able to hold onto this happiness that alighted on her body like sun, if they would be able to bring everything they were together into the real world. 

She was at a fork in the road, standing there with him in the frozen silence, unsure of which path to take.

So Lily and James stood together on that cold, pebbled beach in silence. As the kelpies receded into the sea, both of them reflected on how exhausting it was to be in love.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends, new chapter for you! It's kind of a filler, but you get some long-awaited Marauders time, so I think it's worth it. I want to give a quick shout out to on_the_rox and glitternone for commenting on pretty much every single chapter, it really means the world to me! In other news, the photoshop software on my computer is fixed and I am posting new aesthetic boards for this story on my tumblr (a-collecti0n-of-nonsense) if you want to check them out! I have full inspiration boards for pretty much every chapter on my pinterest to help me get through writer's block, so it's kind of a look inside my mind as I write! Anyways, thank for reading and reviewing!

16.

 

“So rumor has it that you and Lily were seen walking in the bar together in the wee hours of the morning the other day,” Sirius drawled as he took a swig from the firewhiskey bottle the four boys were passing around. As per usual, his hair fell elegantly down to his shoulders, even though he and James had been wrestling only a moment ago for some slight on the latter’s manliness. _Git_ , James thought uncharitably, _not a hair out of place_. Not that he was jealous or anything.

It was the night of the full moon, and all four of the Marauders had been able to get off work for the first time in nearly six months. They had decided to make a guys weekend of it out at a cabin they rented in a little-known, little used area of forest in Sutherland; they all needed some time to blow off steam and catch up. They hardly ever saw each other these days, or at least not outside of work duties and Order meetings, and due to the co-dependent nature of their friendships the four lads were feeling some separation anxiety. Plus, James had missed the past two full moons, and the stag that hid in the shadows of his bones felt like it was going to rip itself out of his body. He needed this.

James rolled his eyes at his best mate, “It’s not a rumor, Padfoot, I know you heard it from Moony.” Remus had been the one on watch when he and Lily had come back from their time at the beach, not that they had really acknowledged each other when they came in. The werewolf had seemed to understand that it was a private, delicate moment that he was witnessing, and James wouldn’t have really known what to say anyways. He still didn’t know what to say, what to think about it. So, he did what he always did when he was unsure of himself: he threw up the legendary Potter arrogance like a protective wall, cocking an eyebrow at his friends as if none of this mattered, saying, “Anyways, what about it?” 

Unfortunately, he had shit mates who knew him far too well, and were not afraid to call him out on his bullshit. “What about it? Are you taking the piss, mate?” Sirius demanded, moving as if to feel James’s forehead for a fever while Peter and Remus let out loud guffaws in the background. 

“Yeah, Prongs, you’ve been mad about her for ages,” Peter added skeptically, “You usually tell us about, well, everything Lily-related.” 

“What she ate for breakfast,” Remus intoned flatly. 

“What quill she was using that day,” Peter continued.

“What skivvies she was wearing when the wind blew her skirt up,” Sirius added with a wicked grin. 

“What tone she used to say ‘fuck off, Potter’ that day,” Remus smirked. 

“‘She just sounded exasperated that time, Padfoot! Do you think that means she’s falling for me?’” Sirius said in a mocking voice. 

“Oh sod off, the lot of you!” James replied irately, shoving Sirius’s face away, “Maybe I’ve just grown up, yeah?” Internally he was asking, _was I really that bad?_ (even though knew the answer was a resounding yes.)

“Unlikely,” Sirius said definitively, “I’m almost positive you spilled that water on her on purpose because she was wearing a white shirt the other day.” 

“And _anyways_ ,” Remus continued, cutting off James’s objections that it had been a _total accident_ , “You two have been extra weird lately.” 

“Did you guys fight or something?” Peter asked worriedly. (People always thought Remus was the mom of the group, but in truth it was Peter. Although not that gifted at magic, he excelled in the art of being a functional adult, and managed to keep them all up to date on their shots and making sure they paid their taxes on time.) 

“Did you guys finally get around to shagging?” Sirius interjected jokingly. 

It took a half-second longer than normal for James to join in on the laughter about that well-worn joke. Amongst any other group of people it would have gone completely unnoticed. However, these were the Marauders, and they were attuned to each other the way a weather vane was to the wind. Just the slightest breeze, the slightest inconsistency, could set things in motion. 

“No way,” Peter breathed in awe. 

“What’s gotten into her?” Remus wondered incredulously. 

“What the fuck mate?” Sirius shouted loudly (obviously more angry at the secret than excited for the news, typical Padfoot), “How could you not tell us?!” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” James replied evasively (although he was going to have to get back at Moony for that dig later, the prat). Once again he prayed to Merlin that for once in their goddamn lives they would just let things go.

Once again his prayers were in vain. 

“You’re _fucking her!_ Don’t try to deny it, Prongs, I can see it all over your face!” Sirius hollered again, shaking the bottle of firewhiskey at him, sloshing it all over the place. 

“Please, Padfoot, let’s not use that language in regards to Lily,” Remus replied, pinching the bridge of his nose. Immediately Sirius and Peter grimaced as well; Lily _was_ the closest thing they had to a sister, and when they thought about it past the surface level it was _Lily_ and _fucking_ and…ergh. “Anyways, why in the world haven’t you told us, Prongs?” 

“Did she swear you to secrecy?” Peter asked fervently, “Did you make an Unbreakable Vow or something?” 

“Oh, Merlin, you’re not going to explode on us now that we know, are you?” Sirius asked with a look of vague distaste on his face. 

“I haven’t told you because you’d act like _this_!” James exclaimed, gesturing at the way Remus was pacing across the room, Sirius was practically jumping out of his skin, and Peter was still staring at him in an awestruck fashion, “Like it’s some huge deal or something!” (He was also a little insulted, as well, at their insinuation that Lily was the one who would be trying to hide their relationship, as if shagging him was something to be ashamed of. Really, he had shit mates.) 

It was only a partial truth, though. James hadn’t told them because his brain was so knotted up with the messy web that was Lily Evans that he wasn’t sure what to say. And, if he was being completely honest with himself, which he generally really did try to do, his ego was still a bit bruised about the whole being used for sex thing. It was not exactly the romantic conquest that he had been bragging about scoring for years. 

“If you’re telling me that now that you’ve _finally_ gotten the girl you’re completely over her, I swear to Merlin that I will get a TimeTurner and go back in time just so I can punch fifth year you in the face for all of the whinging that he put us through,” Sirius deadpanned. The expression on his face told James that he was not joking, and he did not doubt for a second that his best mate would actually do it. 

“I haven’t _got_ anyone,” James muttered bitterly (and a bit resentfully that his friends were making him finally say the truth out loud), “Least of all Lily.”

“Wait, I’m missing something,” Peter said, eyes wide in confusion in a way that made his round face look even rounder, “You _did_ sleep with her, right?” 

James nodded. 

He didn’t want to talk about it. 

He desperately needed to talk about it. 

“So then why are things so fucked up, still?” Remus asked, all joking put aside now. Suddenly things in the room got still as everyone finally realized the gravity of the situation. “James, what did you do?”

* * *

“I mean, so yeah she used you for sex. But, really, is that such a bad thing?” Sirius asked after James had explained to all of them everything that had happened between him and Lily since Sancta Nox. Remus whacked Sirius on the back of his head in reply.

“That doesn’t seem like a very Lily thing to do,” Peter added skeptically.

“I didn’t think so either, Wormy, yet here we are,” James replied sourly, “Maybe none of us know her as well as we thought we did.” _Especially me_ , he thought bitterly, resentfully, angrily.

Sorrowfully.

Remus had been sitting a bit removed from the group for most of the tale, and now he kept glancing back and forth at James nervously. The messy-haired wizard was growing irritated by the furtive looks. “What is it, Moony?” James snapped (regretting it even as he said it because _Merlin was he the shit friend here?_ ), “Have I grown an extra head or something?”

“You have, Prongs, and it’s equally ugly and idiotic-”

“Shut _up_ Padfoot, I _swear to Merlin_ I will murder you right here, right now-”

“C’mon guys, don’t fight, we’ll lose our security deposit on the cabin-”

“Geez, Wormy, stop being such a pussy-”

“Yeah that’s Moony’s job-”

“Can you please all just shut up for a second?” Remus called to the other three boys tiredly, “I’m trying to think!” The lads continued to squabble, ignoring him as they usually did (people always overestimated the power the werewolf had over the rest of the Marauders, they had seen too much of his own wild side to take him very seriously). 

When Remus got angry, though, which almost never happened, the world seemed to stop. “I said, _shut up!_ ” he snapped, a snarl that sounded eerily like the werewolf that resided within. (It happened, sometimes, when they this close to the full moon). The three Marauders were all instantly silenced.

However, Sirius was never one for long, contemplative silence so after merely a minute or two he demanded unceremoniously, ““What’s got your knickers in a twist?” 

“Yeah, I’m the one in a crisis,” James added moodily (and he cringed at the petulant only child that shone through but _dammit_ it was true!).

“It’s just - it’s like this – well, like-” the werewolf tried, seemingly stumped at how to begin (and this uncertainty in Remus of all people made a trickle of dread seep into James’s stomach). 

“Merlin, spit it out Moony!” Sirius cried, impatient as ever. 

“Okay, James, but you have to promise not to have a panic attack or to off yourself or anything yeah? Remember, this is just a theory,” Remus cautioned, holding his hands out as if he were trying to calm a wild animal. 

“A bit dramatic, isn’t it?” James huffed ( _really_ , he had only ever _threatened_ ), but when Remus continued to look at him worriedly he just sighed and nodded, “Alright, Moony, I promise not to off myself.” 

Remus didn’t look totally convinced, but he soldiered on. “So, James, you said that morning she was gone when you woke up? And you didn’t hear from her at all until you saw her walking into the bar around nine?” 

“Yeah, rub it in Moony, thanks,” James bit off. _Did he really have to relive this?_

The werewolf ignored his tone, merely nodding his head. “And when you were searching for her, you knocked at her potions rooms but didn’t actually go in to check?” 

“Well, it was locked,” James defended himself quickly, but that sense of dread continued to pool. 

“And then when she _did_ walk in, she was with Dorcas and seemed pretty happy?” 

“Yes, I _told_ you that already-” 

“James, did you ever actually ask her why she was gone all that time?” Remus asked finally.

There was silence again. 

“Well, no,” James said, feeling slightly embarrassed and uncertain, “I just- Merlin I was so mad, and I wanted to get the first word in, you know, so she wouldn’t know how much it hurt, yeah?” He knew it sounded stupid the minute the words left his mouth, but the cards were out on the table already. Too late to turn back now. 

“It would have ruined the moment,” Sirius agreed (which only made James feel worse, it was never a good idea if _Sirius_ thought it was a good idea), “You don’t get many chances in life to be that dramatic.”

“I wasn’t being dramatic, I was being _angry_ ,” James retorted, defensive again. _Shit, shit mates_ , he thought, _Aren’t they just supposed to affirm all of my life choices?_

“As the resident drama queen, I can say with utter certainty that you were doing it for the drama,” Sirius replied, flipping his hair over his shoulder to match his lofty tone. 

“You prat-” 

“Guys!” Remus said, slapping them both on the back of the heads again, “I actually have something _important_ to say!” They hushed up again, and James only continued to feel worse. 

“Okay, Prongs, so I’ve been working with Lily for over six weeks now, and I know how she operates,” the werewolf began. “When she gets caught up in one of her spells, she becomes completely manic, can’t eat or sleep until she gets it figured out. She’ll disappear into her potions room for, like, four days, only coming out for her shifts. Sometimes she even forgets about those and we practically have to break down the door because she is completely oblivious to anything we do to get her attention. It’s like she steps into another dimension when she’s working.” 

James was drowning now. He knew where this was going. _No no no_. 

Remus continued, oblivious to his friends’s turmoil, or maybe ignoring it because he just wanted to get this over with, get the words out. “So, what I’m saying is, it could be entirely possible that she was struck by an idea during the night and just _forgot_. About the time, about you, about the outside world. And she walked in smiling, right? So maybe she was, you know, happy to see you? That, I dunno, she was happy about that night?”

James felt like he wanted to melt into the floor. To pretend that the last two months hadn’t happened. To hit the restart button.

The ward. She had completed the ward.

 _Oh fuck_.

“Shit, mate, I’m so sorry,” Remus muttered, reading the horror in James’s face and taking on the guilt of his stupid, horrible logic and all of its consequences.

_No no no._

“It can’t be that bad, can it?” Peter piped up encouragingly, ever the cheerleader.

 _It was that bad_.

All Sirius could say was a morose, sympathetic, “ _Prongs_ ,” as he clapped his brother on the shoulder.

_How could he be this stupid?_

James held his head in his hands as his insides screamed, guilt clawing him. He had been _so close_ to having _everything_ , and he had ruined it. For the sake of his fucking ego.

Finally James lifted his head, giving his best mates a pitiful look. “Shit, mates, I fucked up. _I fucked up so bad_. What am I gonna do?” He looked around desperately at the four of them as panic began to set in, “I have to fix this. You _have_ to help me fix this.”

The three of them exchanged pitying looks. None of them knew what could fix it, _if_ anything could fix it.

“Nothing to do for it right this moment,” Sirius shrugged helplessly (as successful as he had always been with women, he had never been able to offer any helpful advice. He seemed to get by on his charm and good looks alone), “It’s almost time to turn, anyways.”

It was true. James had run out of time.

 _Fuck_. 

* * *

 

James had never really been able to put what it was like to be in his Animagus form into words. 

He supposed it was a bit like a Venn Diagram. When he was in his human form, he was still one hundred percent human. And, when he was in his stag form, he was one hundred percent stag. However, there always seemed to be this little portion of overlap in his mind, ten percent of his brain, maybe, that was somehow both human and stag at any given time. Usually this section of his mind fell into the shadows, sliding back behind the dominating parts that screamed _HUMAN_ or _STAG_. 

Not tonight.

It was always difficult, that first transformation after a long absence. A bit like trying to run a sprint if you hadn’t gotten off the couch in months: uncomfortable, stiff, sweaty. His mind (or heart or soul or whatever) stretched and twisted and picked itself apart, before piecing itself back together into the stag form, all knobby knees and toppling antlers that somehow formed this magnificent, graceful creature that stood in human-James’s place. 

And the world suddenly became _scents_ and _sounds_ and that slight shift in the breeze that told him a million things about the world that he otherwise would never know. He could _feel_ the stars above him, like so many beating hearts as they shone down a light that flickered through the trees, fairy lights. And the _earth_ , how _connected_ he felt to it, grounded, like he knew exactly where he was, had been, and would be with every scuff of his hooves in the raw dirt. 

Then everything became _PACK_ as the familiar lanky wolf and shaggy nightmare-black dog came trotting up to him, playfully nipping at each other and wrestling as they went. The plump rat snuffled up, giving a friendly squeak before gripping his fur as it climbed onto his back to get a better view of the proceedings.

 _Where?_ The dog asked with a flick of his ears and a tilt of his head.

 _Lake?_ The wolf suggested as he flickered his eyes at the glistening water down the slope of the hill, illuminated by the full moon.

 _Forest_ , the stag insisted, pawing the ground impatiently. He wanted to _run_.

The others agreed and, following his lead, took off further into the depths of the ancient forest with the _snap!_ of twigs and _thunder_ of hooves and paws. Nothing felt like this, the wind howling in his twitching ears as he darted through the trees, navigating on pure instinct and somehow never missing a step. The biting chill and adrenaline-fueled streak cleansed his mind of nothing but _now now now_.

Or, at least it usually did. Not tonight.

Tonight his mind screamed _emeralds_ and _fire_ and _lily_ and the stag part of his mind didn’t understand and the human part of him just wanted to forget, but there it was (it always was).

_emeraldsfirelily_

The stag missed a step in his confusion, in the distraction, because this was not _earth_ or _sky_ or _pack_ , and what else was there? The wolf was catching up to him, and the dog was barking at them _slow down!_ and the rat was squealing in excitement in his ear and his lungs were burning from the sprint and-

_lilylilylily_

(And that little part of his brain that was both human and stag realized that he would never be able to escape her.)

* * *

 

Sirius came into the pub after closing. Although, technically the pub never closed anymore. Too many people were afraid to go to sleep these days, or would wake up and just need to be around other people, to remind them that other people existed and they were not alone in this constant fear that was suffocating them all. So Lily would be cleaning down the bar at two in the morning and she would hear a knock on the door, and invariably began to let them in. 

That night it was Sirius, though, who wandered down from the room he inhabited up in the apartments. He didn’t tell her why he couldn’t sleep, and she didn’t ask. She just balanced precariously on her bar stool, legs crossed, a cigarette dangling from her hand, and acknowledged him with a nod.

“Can I bum one?” he asked, indicating the cig as he took a seat, leaning back against the bar. She passed him one, lighting it wandlessly with a snap of her fingers. “You’re getting good at that, yeah?” he remarked. She gave him a small smile, but that was it.

It had been a particularly tough day for the young witch. During the previous night’s full moon, a pack of werewolves had led an attack on a small Muggle town. It had been horrible, terrifying, _bloody_. At the end of the night there were more dead than survivors.

And one of the survivors had been a young boy, only four, whose arm had nearly been torn off. Lily was able to save the arm. The rest of him was not so lucky.

Because that four year old had been bitten, and there was nothing in heaven or earth that could save him now. While they had obliviated the other survivors of the attack and sent them on their way, this boy would never be able to forget. No, he would be reminded every month for the rest of his life.

Lily had spent the day explaining the situation to a pair of terrified Muggle parents, trying to get them to understand what they would be facing. She still didn’t know if they understood. Because how could they? How could they believe that such a nightmare was coming true? 

She had wanted to cry for them, and for their little boy. And then this, all of this, had reminded her of Remus who was out during that same full moon carrying the same curse, and she wanted to cry all over again. It was too much, too much, too much. 

Hence the silence and cigarettes. 

It remained silent for awhile, the two of them just sitting next to each other, taking a drag and slowly exhaling the smoke. Sirius looked at his cig concernedly, “Oi, Evans, nothing’s happening.”

“Hmm?” she asked distractedly, mind torturously replaying the day.

“Nothing’s happening. No colors, no fruit flavored tastes. I’m not even feeling a buzz. What shite is this?”

“They’re Muggle cigarettes,” Lily replied in between puffs, “No magic, just nicotine.”

“And what does nicotine do?”

“Slowly kills you,” she breathed softly in reply.

Sirius shot her a dubious look, “Then why are we smoking them?”

“I figure I’ll die before they can turn my lungs black,” Lily replied flatly, cynicism and anger flaming her words, “Anyways, they’re different than magical cigs. They don’t make things fuzzy, or make you giddy or anything of that bullshit. They make things _sharp_. And that’s what I want right now, to feel the hurt.” 

She was angry, angry at those werewolves and the war and the world in general. It burned through her and she wasn’t willing to let it go quite yet, wanted to feel every lick of the flames. 

Sirius nodded in understanding, because that’s why he was awake, wasn’t it? He didn’t deserve the peace of sleep, couldn’t stomach the luxury of forgetting. Same as her. 

He watched his cigarette slowly burn out in his fingers while she lit her third one of the night. 

“I feel like I’m standing on a precipice,” she said softly, but with a sharp edge that felt dangerous, “Like I’m standing on the edge, all these cracks forming in me, just in pieces. And any second I’m either go to just fall apart, completely lose it, disintegrate, or I’m going to fucking _explode_.” 

They let the words hang between them because there was nothing to say, was there? Nothing to change what was happening, what was invariably going to happen next. This was they way the world was now. 

“I don’t think I really loved her,” Sirius said in reply. Not to any question she had asked, or to what she had said really either, but to the general sense of brokenness that the both felt, the emptiness that was the foundation of their strange and twisted friendship. Lily did not need to ask who he was talking about, she knew what tightrope he walked on these days, same as her. “Not in the ways that really mattered, at least.” 

She was surprised, though, all the same. Sirius hadn’t said Marlene’s name in months. 

“I’m not totally sure she truly loved you either,” Lily replied with painful honesty. Because it was true. Marlene loved everything and everyone one, but the net of her love was cast so wide that invariably it was shallow, past the surface but just barely. 

(And if Sirius had not wanted the truth, if he had just wanted comforting words and a hug, he would not have come to her on this night.)

“She deserved to be loved properly really, though, didn’t she?” he continued, “Marley was like this great exotic bird, beautiful and always completely unexpected.” He adopted a wry smile now (and Lily was surprised again because he hadn’t smiled like that, either, in a long time), “I never knew what was going to come out of her mouth.” 

“It was like she was on an adrenaline high twenty-four seven,” Lily agreed with a small laugh (and it felt like the first breath she had taken in years because _finally_ she was talking about her and it didn’t feel like she was going to snap in two). “She _was_ loved properly though, you know that, right? By her family, by her friends.” _By me_. 

“It’s not the same,” Sirius disagreed with a shake of his head, “Everyone deserves to be loved in _that way_ at least once before they die. Especially a girl like Marlene.” 

“Sirius Black, I never took you for a romantic,” the redhead laughed (although it was a bit hollow now because what did she know about that kind of love?), attempting to shove him with her shoulder but hitting a thick wall of muscle instead and nearly falling off her seat, “And anyways, I don’t think the world cares that much whether you’ve had that great love or not. Death won’t wait for us to get our shit together, I’m sure.” 

A weight settled between the two now, the only subject that was off limits for them. _James_. 

“Lily, are you sure-,” Sirius tried, but she cut him off. 

“I told you, I don’t want to talk about it.” There was finality in her town. She couldn’t handle that that, not with him, not after a day like that.

Sirius looked for a moment like he would try to press her for more, that clench in his jaw that said he was rearing up for a fight, but they were interrupted by frantic knocking at the door. Lily stood up, twisting her cigarette into the glass bowl that she was using as a makeshift ashtray and flicking her wand to clear out the smoke. 

At the door stood Craig MacMillan and his girlfriend, Louisa Maddock. Her hair was singed, and there was soot on his face. Both of them had worn canvas rucksacks slung over their backs.

“Come on in, then,” Lily said as she unlocked the door to let them in. She felt a ripple in her heart as they entered the building, which settled into a weight in her chest. Another pair to love, another pair to protect, another pair to someday lose. She gestured them in, putting an arm around Louisa as she burst into tears, “Up the back stairs then, there’s a good girl, we’ll get you all settled, yeah?”


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, friends, I have a whole lot of explaining to do. It started with my computer crashing the day before I moved across the country and deleting this entire chapter right before I posted it. Then I did the whole moving thing, and almost immediately afterwards I had to travel across the country again because of a family reunion. And when I finally got back and unpacked my new apartment I still had the whole chapter to rewrite. But here we are, a new chapter! (And I apologize for any grammar errors, I literally wrote this in a day to get it out to you guys as soon as possible, I will go back and edit soon.) Thank you to everyone who left reviews, they really motivated to power through the pain of starting this chapter from scratch. And a HUGE shoutout to my new tumblr friend wundurr-one (let me know if it's not cool to post your name like this, not sure how you are on privacy) for going through and liking all my moodboards for the chapters, you are the reason I stayed up until two in the morning to finish it up! I hope the chapter was worth the wait, let me know how you like it!

17.

 

She could feel the vibrations of the music through her feet as they rattled the wooden floors that had been cleared for the crowds of young witches and wizards that had overtaken the pub. Multi-colored orbs drifted above all of their heads, the kind that gave off that perfect dirty light that seemed to hang around every club. The sweet taste of whiskey and cigarettes, the salt of sweat and tart lipstick played on her lips. There was something electric in air, a charge that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

Lily felt more present than she'd been in weeks.

It's because they were running low on cash that all of this happened. With every sickle of their funds going towards the war effort, whether it was medical care or refugee expenses, the term 'rationing' did not begin to describe how lean those at the Inverness Safe House were living. Even with Sirius and James pouring their inheritances into the Order, only so much was able to trickle down. There was so much need and not nearly enough to go around. So that's why they came up with this idea, a way to bolster the coffers, at least enough that they could actually keep everything properly stocked.

 _No, that wasn't it,_  Lily disagreed with herself as she greeted another long-lost friend as they entered the pub,  _or at least not all of it_. The real story, the whole story, had to include the boy she had found hanging from the rafters by his Ravenclaw tie a little less than a month ago. There had been an attack on his village, a simple Muggle-baiting spree turned murderous when the Death Eaters realized that there was a Muggleborn in the area. They had killed his entire family right in front of him, made him watch the entire thing. Predictably, he blamed himself. And it had broken him.

It terrified her how many people she passed every single day who had the same story.

Tanner Heath's suicide felt like a tipping point for all of them, changing the atmosphere of the whole building. A light had been snuffed out in all of them, leaving them all groping in the dark. Hopeless, that's what his death said, the fighting and the dying, all of it was hopeless.

They needed something to remind them of what they were fighting for.

Mary's idea for boosting morale seemed silly at first. Who would want to come to a club night when there was a war on? It seemed frivolous in a world where everything was life or death, irrational in a time when every breath they took was a calculated move. An empty, pointless gesture.

But that was it, wasn't it? What they were fighting for in the first place?

Normalcy.

That forgotten word, that longed for word, promised a time when going out to a club on a Friday night was an effortless decision. When they worried about what outfit to where instead of what curse to fire, wondered about who a person was dating instead of what side of the war they were on.

That was the beauty of it. It gave this young generation, the barely-not-kids that were fighting and dying on the front lines a glimpse into what life would be like when it was all finally over.

It was because of the money, it was because of the death, it was because of the war. There were a million reasons it was happening, but none of them mattered right now, not when people were drinking and dancing and  _laughing_. Not when, for one glorious moment, it didn't feel like the world was ending.

Lily smiled wide at the door of the pub as Aideen Byrne, one of her old school friends, introduced her Muggle boyfriend Liam Finnigan to her as they paid for entry. The young man's eyes were wide with wonder as he took in the blatantly magical ambience of the room, while Lily and Aideen giggled at him behind their hands. It was the first time the Irish witch, a Hufflepuff four years ahead of Lily and fellow former member of the Slug Club, had taken her boyfriend into wizarding society, and she wore a bright smile in anticipation of the night ahead.

(In elation at the freedom of being together in public without fear.)

The redheaded witch tapped the young couple's wrists with her wand, conjuring a thin purple wristband. It was charmed to prevent anyone from using their wand on another partygoer, in case someone who wanted to cause trouble got through the normal security system. (Lily had moved her own ward to cover just the apartments, so people outside of the Safe House were able to get in without her having to interview each person for their life story.) Only Remus, Mary, Ellie, and Dorcas, who were playing the multi-faceted roles of host, bartender and bouncer for the entire event, were able to use their wands in case of an emergency.

As the purple gleamed off Aideen and Liam's intertwined hands, Lily bid them goodbye and watched them disappear into the crowd. A moment later Remus came by to relieve her of guard duty, giving her a brief respite from her gatekeeper role at the front entrance. She made her way to the back of the room where the crowd was thin, leaning against the wall as she surveyed the pub, contentment warming her like the sun as she took in the glittering smiles of the witches and wizards milling about the room.

Lily felt a pang in her chest as she took it all in. She wished more than anything in the world that Marlene could be there right now. This was what she lived for, the partying and the dancing and the gasping laughter that told you it was a night you would always remember. Lily could just picture her right now, moving effortlessly through the crowd as she sparkled with life and laughter that lit up the whole room.

The redheaded witch let that longing for her old friend linger for just a few seconds more before drawing herself back out of her memories, snapping herself back into focus. She was getting better at it, this new ability to look into the past without being swallowed by it. Bittersweet was a flavor she was becoming familiar with. And she was thankful for it because she never wanted to forget what had happened, what  _was_  happening just outside those doors, but dammit she wanted to enjoy this night, at least for a little bit. She pleaded with that broken part of herself that was always cutting into her heart, saying  _don't I deserve just one night?_

Because she had done this, worked day and night to make her dream of an oasis from the war a reality. And there it was in front of her, a little bubble of happy in the middle of their fucked up world, and it was _working_ , was reminding all of them that there was something coming after the war, that they had a real life ahead of them. Just waiting for them to seize it.

Lily hummed as she leaned her head back against the wall, feeling the bass pound into her skull through the wood paneling. She listened to the music play, a rock group called The Mudbloods. She had been skeptical of inviting a band with such an incendiary name to come play, but Mary had heard them opening at a concert once a few years back and assured her they were worth the trouble. (And it was not like they had many choices, there were only a few bands still around and even less that would pay for practically free at an underground, Muggleborn-friendly party). As the opening notes of the next song began to play, Lily decided that she agreed with her friend. The band was definitely worth it.

 

_You say you want a revolution_

_Well, you know_

_We all want to change the world_

_You tell me that it's evolution_

_Well, you know_

_We all want to change the world_

 

She was standing straight up now, a grin working itself onto her face.  _What a clever choice_ , she thought with an ironic quirk of her lips. It was originally written as a song about peace, John Lennon had even written it after a stint with some Tibetan monks or some shit like that, but the sarcasm laced through the words and the gravel in the singer's voice made it sound much more like a war cry. It was strange, Lily thought absently as she listened to the familiar lyrics, how thin the line was between peace and war.

 

_But when you talk about destruction_

_Don't you know that you can count me out_

_Don't you know it's gonna be_

_All right, all right, all right_

 

The song was one of her favorite anthems, had always been, but with that cynical edge barbing every word it felt like it was a new song, like she was hearing it for the very first time. Hearing the same frustration that ricocheted around in her chest flow out of the speakers, the pessimism in the words that was the same she had adopted as her eyes opened to a world where the corrupt decided what was right, what was lawful, what constituted  _progress._

 

_You say you got a real solution_

_Well, you know_

_We'd all love to see the plan_

_You ask me for a contribution_

_Well, you know_

_We're doing what we can_

 

Standing on her tiptoes, she was _just_  able to see over the crowd enough to get a look at the band. She had vetted them, she remembered fuzzily, but amongst the whirlwind of preparations and plans she had immediately forgotten them. The leader singer and guitarist was a russet-haired boy, shaggy locks brushing his ears. He was wearing the same twisted smile as her, as if they were both in on some cruel joke.

 

_But if you want money for people with minds that hate_

_All I can tell you is brother you have to wait_

_Don't you know it's gonna be_

_All right, all right, all right_

 

He drawled the words, cynicism dripping from them like poison. It was clear he'd read the same articles in the _Prophet_  as her, hate and prejudice hiding behind rules and regulations, clear that he had no delusions about what a farce their whole government had become. She could hear it in the anger that simmered just below the surface, the same kind of anger that Lily hid behind her soft smiles and comforting words. She had to keep it in check because she had too much to do, couldn't lock herself up in her room and throw plates at the wall all day, and she also wasn't quite sure if she unleashed it just how furious its flames might burn. But as she let her guard slip for a moment, felt its slow burn, she couldn't help but think  _just how fucking good_  it felt to be mad sometimes.

 

_You say you'll change the constitution_

_Well, you know_

_We all want to change your head_

_You tell me it's the institution_

_Well, you know_

_You'd better free your mind instead_

_But if you go carrying pictures of chairman Mao_

_You ain't gonna make it with anyone anyhow_

 

The singer caught her eye then, all the way in the back of the crowd, and gave her a twisted grin that made her blush just the tiniest bit. He leaned into the microphone, his lips brushing against it as he sang the closing lines with that same sharp edge. Lily mouthed the words along with him, and she saw many other Muggleborns in the crowd doing the same. They all had the same look on their faces, a mix of anger and cynicism and  _defiance._  Because even though every one of them knew it was bloody well  _not_  going to be all right, well, _fuck em._

 

_Don't you know it's gonna be_

_All right, all right all right_

_All right, all right, all right_

_All right, all right, all right_

_All right, all right_

 

It was their closing song, Lily realized a bit disappointedly when the band members began packing their equipment up as the young witches and wizards gathered gave them a raucous round of applause for their efforts. She wished she had started paying attention earlier, wished she had heard their other sets because this one had caught her off guard with how enjoyable it had been.

( _Exhilarating, inspiring, stirring_  were all better words for that song, that set, but she wasn't too keen to get into that at the moment, had little time for self reflection when she was already on the move.)

Because moving she was, trying to push through the crowd towards the makeshift stairs that formed the exit from the stage. For some reason she felt compelled to talk to the singer, that russet-haired boy, wanted to hear the story that had turned him into all sharp edges, made his words cut like knives. Even if she knew how the story ended.

_(Because all of their stories ended the same, didn't they?)_

But the cluster of witches and wizards was as thick as a patch of brambles, and as impossible to move through, and the singer had already made way for the next band (announcing themselves as the Common Room Rejects, how passé) and had disappeared from view. Lily's eyebrows knitted in frustration.

But the creases in her forehead smoothed and she stilled in anticipation as the opening number began to play. The lights, which had been bathing the crowd in a swathe of clouded amber to match the moody tone of the Mudbloods' set, now settled into near darkness. With the first chords of the song, though, the orbs flickered into life, a Technicolor show of pulsing lights to match the pop-y beat.

And Lily smiled.

It was the kind of sound that compelled hands to clap, feet to stomp, hips to twist, and who were they to argue? The crowd devolved into a mess of limbs, overlapping and colliding, but no one cared because, in the same way that the last song had turned their brains  _on_  and made them work overdrive, this shut down every conscious thought until all they were left with was pure  _feeling_. The way a drop of sweat worked its way down the ridge of your spine, the mountains of discarded cigarettes and smashed cups beneath your feet, the way the strobing of the lights painted patterns on the back of your eyelids,  _that's_  all that mattered now.

Lily knew there was no way she was going to fight her way through a crowd that behaved as if it were a single organism, so she decided to go with it, to just get swept up in the moment, for now. She had another thirty minutes on break, and anyways she hadn't danced like this is in a long time. The bodies pulsing in the crowd reminded her of the discos she and her Muggle friends would sneak into over the summers, climbing out of bedroom windows long after the sun had set. The same way her father had taught her how to dance with calculated steps, dips, and twirls, the boys she met at the dance clubs had taught her how to use the twist of her hips and the drop of a shoulder to meet the demanding pace of a hungry song.

So she let it all go, all of those dates and details that had tensed up her shoulders until she could hardly move, and was consumed by the crowd at the same time that she consumed them. Time sped up as one song fed into another, as she allowed herself to be passed from one partner to the next under the dim neon lights.

It could have been minutes, it could have been hours, but suddenly Lily found herself in a rare clearing in the crowd, left without a partner. She couldn't be bothered to mind, wasn't afraid of the terrifying solitude, that lost feeling that usually dogged her steps. No, tonight she was safely swathed in the music, caught up in the way it ebbed and flowed, carrying her along with it. She let her eyes flutter closed and just swayed along with the song, standing on her tiptoes and letting her arms float above her as she reached for the stars that she knew sparked and flashed up there, just out of reach.

She had that feeling again, like she could just fly away. So strange and wonderful, light and free.

But then there were hands at her waist, and she was plummeting, pulled out of the clouds back down to earth. But instead of crashing, of shattering upon the impact of facing the real world again, she found herself falling into a pair of arms that caught her right before she hit the ground, saved her from reality. Let her live in this fairy world of bouncing lights and breathy voices, of alcohol and anonymity just a little longer.

Those hands at her waist, and the body that was attached to them too, she supposed, were guiding her through that mercifully muffling song, through the twist and turns of the melody that clouded her mind first slowly and then more insistently as the beat picked up. Lily had kept her eyes closed so it could have been just about anyone in the crowd dancing up against her. She had already torn her way through a dozen partners at least, and this one was no different, another body in the crowd seeking the same escape that she was. Or at least, he should have been. But for some reason she knew this partner was different than the rest. Significant.

It was the way they moved, as if they had been dancing together all their lives, every movement so perfectly in sync they must have trained for it. His warmth behind her and his hot breath in her hair, callused fingers playing at the edge of her shirt, it was all dizzying, intoxicating, overwhelming in this crowded room where she already could hardly catch a breath.

And then he was murmuring into her ears and  _of course it was him_ , she should have recognized the way he was practically fused against her, the hitch of his breath the first time his fingers found bare skin, the wiry muscle in the arms that cradled her. (If she was paying attention she would have noticed, she knew all of this by heart.)

But she hadn't, so it was with a thrill of surprise and anticipation that she heard James's voice murmur against her hair, "Let's get out of here, yeah?"

* * *

"You once asked me to tell you when you were being creepy about her. Well, here it is. Mate, you're being creepy."

Those were Remus's words of greeting as he sidled up against James, clapping him on the shoulder with one hand while he held a frothing mug of butterbeer in the other. The messy-haired wizard jumped in surprise; he could have sworn the werewolf had been manning the bar only a second ago, although he could definitely be wrong. He was a bit distracted at the moment.

It was true, James acknowledged reluctantly, and more than a bit ashamedly, the creepiness thing. He had been openly staring at Lily for the better part of an hour, watching as she greeted every person who stepped into the bar. She had her 'Head Girl Lily' voice on, but not the scary you're-in-trouble one that he encountered far too often, the soft one she used with the tearful, homesick first years. The one that made you want to smile and hug her and confide in her all of your secrets. She had a glittering smile on, and was laughing in an easy and carefree way that he hadn't seen in years. It all brought back memories, far too many memories, and he was hit by a wave of nostalgia.

"Off the bar shift," Remus said in an attempt to regain James's attention (he seemed to have glossed over once again), alerting him to the fact that the werewolf had apparently been trying to press the butterbeer into his hand, "On to my next gig." He pointed a thumb over his shoulder at the very girl he had just been staring at.

"Does that mean Evans will be at the bar, then?" James asked hopefully as he took the drink from his friend, the foam coating his upper lip as he took a sip. He would have to down this quickly so he could go up to the bar for a refill if that was the case.

"Nah, she's on break for a bit," the werewolf replied, rolling his eyes when he took in James's crestfallen look. "Which would be the perfect time to, I don't know, actually fucking talk to her?"

"I was just saying how I want to go talk to her at the bar," the messy-haired wizard objected indignantly.

"Placing an order is not the same as expressing your feelings," Remus replied with an exasperated shake of his head.

"What are we talking about?" Sirius asked, somehow breaking through the thick cluster of witches and wizards around the bar to come up next to them, a cringing Peter trailing behind him (Pete had always been a bit claustrophobic, which explained his rat Animagus perfectly. If he was small, the room felt so much bigger).

"Prongs is being a baby about talking to Lily," Remus said flatly, obviously beyond done with the subject, and the other two Marauders rolled their eyes dramatically.

"Still?" Peter groaned as he shied away from a group of pushy, tipsy witches, "It's been weeks!"

"You're exaggerating," James grumbled, although the other boys just shared a long-suffering look. It had, in fact, been two and a half weeks since James had come to the staggering realization that maybe Lily Evans did not completely hate him. Or, at least, she hadn't at the time that they first slept together.

That was the whole problem, though. Even if there had been a short period of time where Lily might have been open to  _something_  with him (what that would be James could only dream), for the past couple months he had been a dick, a prat, an arrogant bullying toerag and every other insult the fiery redhead had called him over their ten years of acquaintance. And James was terrified, terrified in that way that caused his ears to buzz and his throat to close up, that he had missed his shot.

( _Why why why was he such a bloody idiot._ )

(To make himself feel better he decided to blame Sirius.)

It seemed James had zoned out again because he found when he came back to he found that Remus was now the one tapping wristbands at the door and Lily was nowhere to be found.

"Where'd she go?" James asked Peter and Sirius, who seemed to have moved on from their previous conversation and were in a full-out debate over who would win the International Gobstones Tournament currently being held in China (Peter had his money on Ireland, while Sirius argued that it was  _definitely_  going to be Panama, they had an incredible youth program and even if the Irish did have the best rookie in the league they were all going to show up drunk anyways, it was  _tradition)_.

" _Proooongs_ ," Sirius said with an almighty groan, irritated at the interruption of his closing argument, "I thought this was supposed to be  _better_  now that you know that she likes you back. I mean, what's the deal? Why aren't you just fucking her already?"

"It's like that box thing, right?" Peter asked, looking back and forth between his two friends, "Right?"

"What in Circe's tits are you talking about, Wormtail?" James asked, perplexed, "That's a bit of a broad subject, boxes."

"The box thing, from Muggle Studies? That science guy, one of those weird hypnosis ones or whatever, and he had a box and he put a puppy in it and poisoned it or something, but as long as the box was closed the puppy couldn't be called dead, or alive either, it was in stasis?" The stubby wizard had that same frustrated look that people got when a puzzle piece wasn't fitting where you just _knew_  it should go.

"Merlin, Pete, why in the hell would you  _ever_  bring up something that involves dead puppies," Sirius said in a disgusted tone, looking a bit green around the gills. Puppies: it was a sensitive subject, to say the least.

"Maybe it was a cat, okay?" Peter replied, exasperated that they still weren't getting it when he was certain it was a terribly enlightened metaphor, "Does that make it better?"

Sirius shrugged noncommittally, although his face had returned to a normal color. "I still don't smell what you're stepping in."

"Really, Pads, of all the metaphors you choose _that_?" James said in a peeved tone, "I thought we had moved on from feces jokes after graduation."

"You know, out of all the terms for poop, I think feces is actually the most disgusting," Sirius replied, almost philosophically.

"Really, guys, I'm being super smart here and you're missing it!" Peter interjected frustratedly. The other two boys quieted down for once, giving the squat wizard his moment (they were admittedly far and few between so they like to play it up a bit for him, supportive mates that they were). "It's like this, right. James doesn't know if Lily still likes him or not. But if he never asks, it's still in the realm of possibility that she  _does_  like him."

"How in the world did you remember that, Pete?" Sirius asked (and although he was completely missing the point, James had been wondering the same thing), "I'm pretty sure you slept through all four years of Muggle Studies with me."

"I think I absorb information better when I'm asleep," Peter replied with a shrug, "Anyways, see what I'm saying?"

"Whatever," Sirius said dismissively, "I still think James is a pussy."

"I'm not disagreeing, I'm just saying-"

"You guys are shit mates, did you know that?" James grumbled at them, revising his former opinion on their supportive nature, "I'm going to get another drink." He was not feeling the need at the moment to listen to his friends dissect all the ways in which he was a coward. He was perfectly aware of that, thank you very much.

When he finally made his way back from the bar, half-full butterbeer in hand (the other half had sloshed out when he had tried to sidestep some squealing girls who had apparently been reunited after a grueling week-long separation), Peter and Sirius arguing again about gobstones (a subject on which James had little to no interest, seeing as Quidditch was the only competition worth talking about), leaving him to resume his treasured hobby of staring.

It took him awhile to locate her this time around. At some point the music pulsing through the magicked speakers had changed from angsty rock to bubblegum pop, and the crowd was like a wave, tossed around by the ups and downs of the crescendo-ing song. It was nearly impossible to tell one person from the next, to find a single person in that endless sea of bodies.

But, as if called into being by James's wishes alone, she appeared, the crowd parting to reveal the ethereal glow of her pale body under those dirty neon lights. She was wearing a short, short suede skirt that made his brain go a bit fuzzy and a black tank top whose straps kept slipping off her shoulders. Not that she seemed to care; she was lost in the music.

But not lost, no, that wasn't really the right word. Because it seemed like she had been found, had found herself as she closed her eyes and smiled up at those beating lights, standing on her tiptoes and reaching her hands up towards something, although what only she knew.

James never consciously made the choice to go to her, but after all it had never really been a choice when it came to Lily. He was drawn like a magnet, pushing his way through that impossible crowd because he just  _had_  to be near her,  _had_  to be touching her, she was his oxygen and he was suffocating without her.

_(Merlin how had he gone so long, he was so stupid-)_

And though he hated to break the spell that she had cast, that magical aura surrounding her that set her apart in more ways than one, he couldn't help himself. He came up behind her, mirroring the swing of her hips, his hands falling on her waist.

And they were  _perfect_  together, she had to see that, couldn't deny it when they danced like they knew exactly where the other was moving next, when they melded together like they were two parts of the same machine, only whole when they were around each other. She _had_  to see that this, the touch of a hand whisper of a sigh, was just fucking  _everything._

"Let's get out of here, yeah?" he murmured in her ear, because he finally had discovered that goddamn Gryffindor courage again, and he was desperate to talk to her, to plead his case because  _fuck it_  they could make it work, he knew they could.

He was almost surprised when she finally nodded, but he got over it quickly in his excitement as he took her by the hand and shoved his way (a bit more forcefully than necessary but he was suddenly overwhelmingly impatient) through the throng of people over to a little alcove by the hidden staircase leading up to the apartments. And his mind was going a million miles an hour because holy shit,  _this_  was the night they would tell their children about, the night when they finally stopped playing this twisted game of theirs and truly fell in love.

James spun her around the moment they got to the alcove, opening his mouth to say – well he didn't really know what he was going to say, he hadn't gotten that far yet in his mind, but he wasn't given the chance because Lily's mouth was suddenly on his, pulling at his bottom lip and completely frying his brain because she was  _electric_  and-

James reared back from her, his voice rough as he said, "Lily, wait, I have something I want to say."

"So say it," she said in a sultry voice, deciding to take the opportunity to run her lips over the sensitive patch of skin right at the curve of his neck.

James took another ragged breath as she nipped at _that one spot_ , but then remembered the mission he was on and pushed her away, grasping her shoulders with his hands to keep her a solid arms-length away.

_(Did he really have so little self-control around her? Fuck, how embarrassing.)_

It seemed to have gotten Lily's attention though. She was looking at him with a pout on her lips ( _dammit Potter keep it together_ ), although there was a sparkle on curiosity in her eyes. "Spit it out then, Potter," she said irritatedly (and he was feeling a bit smug that she was so displeased about not being able to snog him), "I don't have all night."

"Well, it's about that night," James began, pausing after that sentence because he wasn't totally sure where he wanted to go from there. See, trying to have a serious conversation was like walking in a minefield for him, and he somehow always found a way to stray from the safe path. "See, Potter, you're going to be a bit more specific than that because nighttime is something that occurs every twenty-four hours so there's quite a lot of them-"

"Just shut up for a minute, okay?" James snapped as he tried to get his thoughts straight, before his eyes widened in horror. In contrast, Lily's emerald eyes narrowed, her nose scrunching in that way that he found adorable but was actually a warning that bad things were about to happen.  _Boom._  First misstep.

She was tapping her foot as she leaned with one hip jutting out, impatient now, and James knew he was losing her interest quickly. Desperately he began again, "It's about that first night, right, the one where we fucked? Wait, no, not fucked, although technically that is true but I mean something flowery-er, like making love although that sounds way too cheesy and makes me want to gag-"

Her arms were crossed and she had one eyebrow raised in distate.  _Boom_. Another misstep.

"Right. So we, I dunno, had sex, let's call it that, and you were all mopey and desperate so I thought you had used me for my body or something because I'd seen you using all those other guys at the bar and stuff, yeah? But I told the other lads about it all and they seemed to think I had it all wrong, you weren't being slaggy, that you were actually into me or something and had ditched me that morning for some other reason. And I just wanted to know if it was true because that was a great night, right, and maybe we could do it again sometime?"

He got it all out on one breath, barely paying attention to the words, figuring that if he mucked it up here or there he could take care of it all after. He just needed to get all his cards on the table, let her see what had been bouncing around in his head for days, and then she would  _see_ , and they could finally,  _finally_  be together.

Judging by the way she was glaring at him, though, and how her whole body had tensed up into almost a dueller's stance, he had miscalculated a bit.

 _BOOM_. He was dead.

"Are you  _fucking joking_  right now, Potter? Are you on drugs or something?" she replied in a low hiss, her eyes burning in anger, " _That's_  what you pulled me over for? To tell me that I'm some desperate slag who used you for your body? And that you told all of your friends about it too?  _Merlin_ , are you really  _that_  conceited?"

"That's not what I said-"

"I have ears, Potter, that's  _exactly_  what you said," she huffed. She was still glaring daggers at him, but she hadn't run away yet and he felt the tiniest inkling of hope grow in his stomach. Because Lily was a runner, always had been, but if she was still here standing in front of him then maybe a little of what he had been trying to say had gotten through that (often frustratingly, stubbornly thick) skull of hers.

"What I was  _trying_  to say, then, was-"

James was cut off, though, by a series of shouts and the tinkle of glasses breaking, and the moment was gone, he saw it, her eyes were looking over his shoulder, her mind moving a million miles a second leaving him far in the dust.

"You have  _got_  to be shitting me," she groaned in frustration, anger directed at what James now saw was a fight right near the bar, "I don't fucking have time for this." Despite that claim, though, Lily was already moving past him in that direction.

James latched onto her elbow in one final, desperate grab for her attention. "Can't someone else take care of it?" he pleaded, "We really need to talk."

The redhead let out a long sigh. "Everyone else is on shift. So no, no one else can take care of it. So hands off, yeah?" She shrugged off his hand and started walking. She paused a couple steps away, though, and turned back to him. "Tell you what, Potter. If you can figure out how to phrase whatever you are trying to say in a way that doesn't make me want to curse your prick off, then find me and we can talk, alright?"

James was left to watch her walk away, just as she always did. Maybe it was a blessing, though, he certainly had been cocking it up before she got called away. Maybe he could ask Moony and Padfoot to help him write a script or something.

 _Fucking useless_ , he thought frustratedly as he let his hand bang against bricks, leaning back against the wall. And the worst part was he couldn't even follow her to get himself the strong drink he surely needed.

* * *

"Fucking idiots," Lily grumbled as she slumped against the bar. It had taken nearly an hour to deal with the two drunk meatheads who had gotten into the fight. Fistfight, of course, no wand use allowed, and they had both been too enraged to hear Lily when she was shouting at them to stop (or too far gone to care) and she'd had to resort to Stunning them to get them off each other. Then, of course, she had to find whoever they had come to the party with and see if they were sober enough to side-Apparate the two would-be brawlers home (and one of them definitely hadn't been, so Lily had to Apparate an unconscious, beefy man all the way to fucking Sussex and drag him to his room. She may or may not have cursed all of the pots and pans to bang against each other loudly to wake him up at five in the morning. Really, she would  _never_  be that petty.)

And of course there was that whole mess with James Potter. What had he been on about? There had been something earnest, something vulnerable hiding behind his eyes, the reason she had stayed to listen even after she wanted to smack him across the face, but  _Merlin_  why did he have to be such a prat about it? And why in the world did he want to relive all those old arguments? Things between them were passably okay at the moment, which she figured was as good as they were ever going to get.

Lily was desperate for a drink but it was now her turn to man the bar and already she could see a line queuing up in front of her. She moved quickly, taking orders and mixing drinks with the ease and expertise of an old hat. Soon enough she was able to dispatch all of the drink orders and given the chance to lay her hot forehead, warmed by an overheated brain, on the cool, damp wood of the bar.

"Rough night?" a gravelly voice with an Irish brogue asked. Lily was sorely tempted to answer with a groan, or to simply ignore the fellow, but unfortunately she had a job to do so she stood up once more, pasting her falsely cheery waitress smile on her face and asking, "What can I do for you?"

She was surprised to find herself looking into the stormy blue eyes of the russet-haired singer she had been ogling at earlier in the evening. "Drop that awful smile for one thing," the boy said with a grimace, "I'm afraid I'm going to lose my supper."

"You sure know how to charm a girl," Lily replied sourly as she let her face fall into the scowl she had been fighting back for over an hour. But she when she flicked her eyes back at him she saw he was giving her an amused smile ( _and boy did he look dreamy when he smiled_ ), and she let her own grin, a small one but genuine, creep up in return.

"I'll have you know that I'm great with the ladies," he teased back, "The voice of an angel, they say." ( _And with that accent I can hardly disagree_ , she thought.)

Not that she was about to tell him that. "Oh, were you one of the acts?" she asked, feigning innocence as she took to cleaning a glass.

"You know it was," the boy replied, not believing her act for a moment, "You were the one that interviewed us."  _Damn, forgot about that_ , she thought. She was definitely out of practice when it came to flirting, she was much too used to guys throwing themselves at her. He continued, "And anyways, I saw you watching me up there, can't miss a pretty girl like you even in a crowd like that." She rolled her eyes at his cheesy attempts at flirting, even if she was fighting a flattered blush. "Anyways, what'd you think of the set?"

Lily decided then to try out a little experiment. "Oh, I thought it was brilliant," she gushed, "Did you write the songs yourself?"

The russet-haired boy considered for a moment before replying smoothly, "I mean, it's a team effort between me and the lads, of course, but yeah, I guess you could say I'm the songwriter of the group."

"Wow," she said in over exaggerated awe, "You have aged remarkably well, John. Or would it be Paul?"

Knowing she had called his bluff, he gave her a wry grin. "Muggleborn then?" he asked with a chuckle.

"Born and bred," she replied, returning his grin with her own. "Great to hear some of the classics, though, I can't deny that. Reminds me of home, yeah?"

"I can never resist adding a Beatles song into the show," he admitted, "They pretty much defined my childhood. Plus, it's not like the purebloods know any better."

She laughed, "True. They can't operate a toaster properly, let alone identify quality music. Have you heard the trash they listen to, too? Every song has to have some painful magic-related metaphor in it. Really, would it kill them to write a normal song for once?"

The russet-haired boy laughed in return before holding out his hand. "I'm Arden, by the way."

She shook his hand. "Lily," she replied, and smiled.

It continued like this for the rest of Lily's shift, the easy back and forth and talk of childhood nostalgia. It had been awhile since she had this, a conversation where she didn't have to explain her every reference. An old soul he was, same as her, and sharp as a tack too. She had laughed easily and frequently, giving her a weightlessness that she hadn't felt in a long time. It was like she was shedding a skin, going back to the Lily of so many years ago, before she had been hardened by loss and war.

"So why The Mudbloods?" she asked as she wiped her hands off on a towel before handing off her apron to Ellie and making her way out from behind the bar. She was now a drifter, keeping an eye and an ear on the witches and wizards that made up the crowd, a kind of undercover security (although pretty much everyone in the crowd would have recognized her, but still). "Why would you want to call yourselves that?"

"We're taking back the word," Arden replied, taking his whiskey with him, "If we strip it of its negative connotation, if we use it casually as a term of affection, almost, it takes away those blood purist bastards' power. It's no longer an insult, just meaningless coming from them."

"So are you a revolutionary, then? Trying to change the world one word at a time?" the redhead teased before continuing more thoughtfully, "Because I haven't seen you, you know, around…"

"You mean because I'm not apart of that ragtag band of self-righteous purebloods and their unfortunate Muggleborn friends that Dumbledore formed?" Arden scoffed. Lily blanched, unable to keep the shock from her face. The whole point of a secret society was to remain, you know,  _secret_ , and if this random guitarist had heard of them who knew who else might know what they've been up to? Reading the discomfort on her face, Arden continued quickly, "Don't worry, your cover's not been blown or anything. The Headmaster tried to recruit me a few years back. Turned him down but yeah, I've heard of you."

"At least we're  _trying_  to fight," Lily said defensively, her hackles rising now that she knew the danger had passed. Because who was he to criticize their war efforts, hiding away the way he must have been?

"There's more than one way to fight this, you know," the russet-haired boy replied, his own defenses rising. ( _Redheads and their tempers_ , Lily thought wryly.) "Ways that don't include begging for permission from your pureblood overlords."

"And what do you mean by  _that_?" she snapped, starting to get a bit pissed now. She didn't like what he was insinuating.

"Well think about it," Arden argued, "Who's in charge of the Order? Who makes all the decisions, funds it all? Is there a single Muggleborn on the council? Or is there not even a council at all, just a batty old pureblood making the decisions on who or what is worth saving?"

"Dumbledore is the most powerful wizard in Europe," Lily argued back, knowing even as she said it that her reasoning was weak, a shallow defense.

"So is that what we're looking for in a government, these days? The most powerful wizard of all?" he scoffed, emphasizing the irony of the situation before continuing, "The legitimacy of the Order is completely derived from the purebloods involved. To them, all of the Muggleborns are expendable, interchangeable. Does he include you in any decisions, in any of the missions? Or does he just hide you away?"

His words fell like blows on Lily's ears. She was afraid to really listen, to hear the truth behind those statements. It made her feel small (her least favorite feeling in the world.) "You seem to know a lot about the Order for some guitarist," she said in an attempt to evade his words, redirect, "And about me, for that matter."

"I read up on you before we came," Arden admitted, "Why do you think we came out of retirement for some random gig in Nowhere, Scotland? We think you're an untapped resource."

"And who is this we?" she questioned, eyeing him warily. She hated when someone knew more about her than she knew about them. Made her feel unbalanced, like she was running a race on only one leg. "I told you, the Order is not the only way to fight this war," he repeated, steel in his voice. Something over her shoulder caught his eye, though, and he held up a finger to someone she couldn't. "Looks like we're heading out. But get in touch, yeah?" Arden took her hand, fingers callused and swollen from the guitar, and slipped something into it. It was what looked like a business card, right size and shape, but a blank one. Lily flipped it over, looking at both sides for some sort of message but found none. After the third turn a phone number appeared on the cheap cardstock.  _Clever_ , she thought, grinning up at the boy. The Death Eaters would never think to tap the Muggle phone system.  _And Dumbledore hadn't thought of it either._

"You don't need to lean on the purebloods forever," Arden continued as he started walking towards his glaringly Irish bandmates who were waiting impatiently at the door. Over his shoulder he shouted to her cheerily, "Welcome to the revolution!"

* * *

"Mate, we've got to go," Sirius insisted, pulling on James arm, "You'll have to deal with your girl problems later, okay?"

Reluctantly James pulled himself away from the wall he'd been leaning against, scowling as he watched Lily flirt with some Irish bloke from behind the bar. He had lost track of her after she'd had to take care of those drunken idiots who'd started that fight, and when he'd finally found her again she was already hard at work behind the bar. He had almost gone up to talk to her then, to pick up where they'd left off, but he had determined that this was too important of a conversation to have while she was working. He didn't much fancy getting interrupted every five seconds by thirsty partygoers while he professed his love to the girl of his dreams.

It looked like someone else hadn't found this an issue, though, and Lily was now smiling at him in a way that made James want to punch a wall.

And then a tiny, barely noticeable silver cardinal had flown through the door and alighted on Sirius's shoulder, whispering in his ear. They were on call for the Aurory that night, the reason the two of them hadn't partaken in any alcoholic beverages that evening, and it looked like they were getting called in.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," James grumbled, setting his mug of butterbeer down on a table as he walked to the door. He paused at the entryway, sparing one last glance towards the redhead behind the bar.

She looked up all of a sudden, and James had the wonderful thought that maybe she had sensed him somehow. Her green eyes turned towards the door, and he felt his heart catch.

But her eyes moved right past him, quickly surveying the room before turning back to the young man in front of her, throwing her head back in laughter at some joke he must have told.

And James had the sinking feeling that he was losing her.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three cups of coffee later, here I am! Thank you all for your lovely words and understanding in the comments, they always make my day! I know this chapter is a bit of a filler but the next couple will move the plot forward pretty quickly so hang in there! As always, I hope you enjoy the chapter, and I would love for you to leave your thoughts about it in the reviews! (And if you needed a little extra motivation I always go on a writing binge after a really good review so if you want the chapter out faster stop by and say hi!)

18.

They kept missing each other.

It wasn't a conscious choice on either of their parts. They chased each other's shadows across hallways late at night as one left for a meeting and the other returned from a mission. They knocked on door after door as they tried to pin the other down, but lost each other in the myriad of hallways snaking through the Safe House. It always seemed that as one entered the room, the other was on their way out, the door swinging shut behind them, a concrete example of the walls that they had built between them.

It would have been poetic if it wasn't so damn frustrating.

* * *

"You know, this isn't what I meant when I said I wanted to work in the field more," Lily complained as she and Benjy hiked through a forest in Aberdeenshire in search of a very particular mushroom.

"You're the one that insisted that you need this damn mushroom for whatever damn concoction you're working on so you only have your goddamn self to blame," Benjy grumbled in reply as he shook the questionable mud off his boots that had coated them when he accidentally stepped into a sludge pile. It was true; Lily was working on a new poultice for cursed flame injuries and hoped that the  _caeruleum igne_  mushroom would be the finishing touch. It was incredibly rare, though, and could only be harvested from its home in the Scottish Highlands the morning after a warm rain. Someone would have to go and hunt it down, harvest it by hand.

Lily had not anticipated  _she_  would have to be the one to do it.

Knowing that it would be a long and boring trip (and following the buddy system, the latest security protocol that the Order was insisting on which reminded Lily of a distasteful summer camp experience), she had dragged Benjy along on the expedition as well.

But a craving for company wasn't the only reason that Lily had asked her friend along. See, a lot had happened over the past couple of weeks, and her head was starting to hurt from all of the crazy thoughts and theories that were ricocheting against her skull. And Benjy had always been much better at sorting out her life than she was.

"Anyways, how's that undercover work been going?" Benjy asked as he pretended to help her over a fallen log (when in fact he was making sure that she fell into the same mud pile as him.)

"It's a lot," Lily replied with a sigh (after, of course, she'd gone through a rather exhaustive list of new pet names for her dickwad friend), not quite sure where to begin.

* * *

The morning after the club night at the pub, when she had met the mysterious Arden with his cryptic words and strange business cards, the redheaded witch had gone straight to Dumbledore.

"I think there's another resistance group out there," Lily had told him as she sat in his ever-fascinating office, trying not to get distracted by the cerulean orb that was currently circling around the Headmaster's head (which he did not seem to notice it at all). "Made up completely by Muggleborns," she continued, refocusing her thoughts on the matter at hand.

"Ah, so you've found the Muggleborn Resistance," the silver-haired wizard began slowly. He looked more tired than she had ever seen him, the skin under his eyes drooping and the crook of his fingers looking slightly arthritic. "Our intelligence has been picking up rumors of them for quite some time, and they've claimed several different protest displays in prominent wizarding regions. But we have still yet to identify those that stand amongst their ranks."

Lily was surprised that she had never heard of this group at any of the Order meetings. After all, weren't  _they_  the ones who gathered this intelligence? She wondered for a moment if Dumbledore was bluffing, if he was just trying to maintain his all-knowing appearance. When she met his eyes, though, there was edge to their chilly blue that unnerved her, that kept her from questioning his statements.

Instead, the redheaded witch simply asked, "So what do you want me to do with this?" as she showed him the business card that Arden had given her, turning it in her fingers three times until the red script of a phone number appeared. She turned it one more time and it was gone.

"Interesting form of communication," Dumbledore hummed, taking the business card in his hand and turning it over himself. No matter how many times it passed through his spindly fingers, though, no writing appeared. "The Death Eaters will surely not be intercepting telephone calls, and it certainly is faster than owl post."

"Why aren't we using it then?" the witch asked curiously (becoming much more impressed by the Muggleborn rebellion, or whatever it was called, if they were able to charm a flesh memory onto something as un-magical as paper).

"Much too complicated for the average wizard," the Headmaster replied dismissively with a wave of his hand and adjustment of his half-moon spectacles, handing the business card back to her, "And Muggle technology is far too unreliable." Lily felt a sting of frustration. If Muggleborns could adapt so quickly to the wizarding world (and were expected to within mere weeks at Hogwarts, she might add) couldn't the wizards put in even an ounce of effort to learn something as simple as how to operate a telephone? They complained about how confusing it was, how impossible it seemed, yet didn't bat an eye when using the completely logic-defying floo network? It just made no sense, especially when something as dire as a war was at stake.

But Dumbledore was talking again, so she brushed off the slight burn of contempt brewing in her stomach and regained her focus.

"I think it would be very advantageous," he was saying, "If you were able to get into contact with this group of individuals. It seems as though we may be fighting on the same side of this war, and could better serve the people as public allies. Of course," he tempered in that almost hoarse sounding all-knowing manner of his, "It would be best if we find out what kind of organization this is, their motives and plans of action, before we attempt such an alliance. It is vital for the Order of the Phoenix to be allied with only those of upstanding moral intergity."

Lily could see where this was going a mile away, and was weighing the glamor of the James Bond films she had seen with the very real danger that waited down the sort of path that Dumbledore was asking her to follow. Like he had said, none of them knew what sort of people made up this Muggleborn Resistance group. For all they knew, it could be a trap.

At this point though, she realized, she was risking her life every time she went to the market. She sighed internally, overwhelmed momentarily by the realization that this was her life now. (Because really, how the fuck did she get from playing on the swings at her neighborhood playground to agreeing to play spy for some secret wizard club?) Because that's what she was about to do, agree to the whole damn thing. In for a penny, in for a pound right?

(She definitely wasn't thinking of the sting of Arden's words that night, about being hidden away, the implication that Dumbledore and the Order didn't trust her, didn't think she could handle  _more_.)

"So, what, you want me to go undercover or something? Pretend I want to join up?" she asked her former professor resignedly.

"The term 'undercover' seems to associate itself with deception. I will not ask you to be anything but yourself. Only that you investigate who the Muggleborn Resistance is, and report your findings back to me."

If it were anyone else, she would have called bullshit on this statement. Lily, Dumbledore, hell pretty much the entire Order, all of their lives were teeming with deceptions. In her mind, withholding some of the true was the same as a lie. And it had been a long, long time since any witch or wizard she knew had told the whole truth; they all had something to hide these days. But the wizard sitting in front of her was not just anyone, so once again she held her tongue and simply nodded instead.

"I'll take care of it," the redheaded witch said with a tone of resigned finality. And then she was dismissed.

That afternoon Lily called the number on the business card, and a woman with an impossibly high-pitched voice picked up. "MR Energies," she said in a perfectly prim secretary voice that even Petunia would envy, "How may I help you?"

"Hi, um, yes, I was looking to speak to Arden? It's Lily Evans," she said, trying not to laugh at the glaringly obvious secret name they were using.  _MR Energies, indeed._  The best part was, no pureblood wizard would ever think twice about it. They would be too confused wondering how a person could sell 'energy' in the first place.

"Oh yes, he's been waiting for your call!" the woman squeaked eagerly, her prissy tone being replaced by a relaxed Bristol accent, before quickly adding, "Oh bugger, don't tell him that I said that. He's trying to look like he's playing it cool, the tosser."

Lily stifled another laugh (trying to remember to stay on her guard, that she was playing a dangerous game, but dammit if they already weren't so likeable), "No worries. I was just wondering, um, what's this all about?"

"Oh right!" the woman gasped, "Arden was probably very cryptic about it all, that's his thing. Do you have a pen? I'll give you the address for our next meeting. And the time and date too, I suppose you'll need that as well."

"Just like that?" Lily asked skeptically. (And now she was wondering how in the world they had stayed under the radar for so long if they gave away their information this easily.)

"The fact that you understood that it was a telephone number and were able to reach us means you passed our first test," the woman hiccuped, the laugh of such a high-pitched voice, "There will be more to come, of course, you can't be a true secret society without some security measures, but if Arden read you right, which he almost always does, you'll be just fine. You ready with the pen?"

"Um, yeah, sure," Lily replied, barely able to keep up with the harried directions the woman was giving, and before she even had time to say thank you a dial tone told her the conversation was done.

It was just as much of a confusing clusterfuck trying to get to whatever secret grotto that this meeting was being held at. Lily was able to get the day off work, citing some super secret mission from Dumbledore (which technically it was), which was a good thing because it took five hours to get there.

It started with apparating into Edinburgh. The woman (and Lily realized she had never gotten a name) had told her that they didn't like to use magical transportation anywhere close to their meeting spot as the Death Eaters (and the Ministry as well, she had said in a cynical voice that Lily automatically took a liking to) could often find ways to trace it. They were either completely clueless when it came to Muggle transportation, though, or at the very least they vastly underestimated it because it seemed they were not tracking it at all.

From Edinburgh she took a train into Leeds, and then bused into Halifax. When she got off at the bus stop, it was a twenty minute walk to the address she had written on a scrap of parchment. She was utterly shocked when, rather than some sketchy burned out house or an official-looking brick building, she found herself at the entrance of the local YMCA.

"What the hell…?" the redheaded witch wondered out loud, checking the address for the fifth, sixth time. An unmistakable voice called out to her, though, scratching at her eardrums. "Oi! Lily Evans, is it? Over here!" A short, fierce-looking woman in her late thirties with a shaved head and pierced nose that utterly contrasted the girly falsetto of her voice (and the flowery sundress she was wearing, as well) waved her arms as she walked towards her. "Arden said you were striking, couldn't miss you, and Merlin was he right!" she squeaked as she grabbed Lily's hand in a vigorous handshake, frowning suddenly, "Shit, shit, shit, forget I said that, he'll kill me."

"Um, nice to meet you?" Lily tried, a bit overwhelmed by the tour de force that was this woman, "Where exactly am I? And who are you?"

"Oh, right, never introduced myself, did I?" the woman giggled nasally, "Name's Artemis Clemmons, and you are at Halifax's own YMCA!"

As Artemis began leading the way inside, Lily interjected, "Yes, I noticed the sign and all, I suppose I meant  _why_  am I here?"

"Expecting some sort of murder-y looking basement hidden under a trapdoor?" Artemis asked with an arched eyebrow, while Lily flushed a bit.  _Well, yes_ , she was thinking. "The thing we have learned about the wizarding world," the woman continued, "Is that it's easiest to hide in plain sight. For all of their harping on the obliviousness of Muggles, they have quite a few glaring blind spots themselves. As in, nearly everything that isn't London and Hogwarts."

Lily considered arguing because _okay that was a bit much_  but noticed the twinkle in the woman's eyes and realized it was all in jest. Although, a little bit closer to the truth than was comfortable.

Still, she was impressed. "So is this a cover, then?" she asked the woman as they walked down the busy hallways, their shoes clicking against the cheap tiling. "Do you lot own this building or something?"

Artemis snorted, "We don't have the funding for that, living on scraps we are. We just rent out the different conference rooms they have, say we're part of some historical society or an AA group. Free meeting space, yeah?"

"Pretty genius," Lily acknowledged as they entered a room filled with about twenty people. She was surprised by the diversity of the group; all shapes and sizes were present, not only young, angry looking soldier types but a quite a few smiling middle-aged folks as well. She vaguely recognized a few of them from her Hogwarts days, but most of them were complete strangers. Lily was fascinated; they were all so  _normal_  looking. One, a young Indian woman, was even wearing scrubs. Was this really their army?

(And  _why in the world_  were they letting her just walk into their meeting so easily? Didn't they realize how dangerous this was?)

A familiar figure emerged from the back of the crowd. "Ah, so you made it," Arden began, a wide grin breaking across his handsome face, "Must say, I was a bit worried you'd get lost along the way. Artemis can be a bit difficult when it comes to directions, one of those who could navigate across the Sahara desert on camelback without even a compass but cannot for the life of her describe how she does it."

Lily was taken aback by how strikingly different the russet-haired man looked today. Last time she had talked to him he had been coiled tight from that temper of his, raging against the world as he sang about revolution. But today he was loose and relaxed, an easy smile gracing his face.

Somehow, though, his casual grace made him seem only more compelling. He was a politician at the front of a cheering crowd: all smiles and friendly waves, but everyone still knows who holds the nuclear launch codes.

Powerful.

In response to his comments about her navigational skills, Artemis slapped him on the bicep, but Arden just put a friendly arm around her shoulder. "Ready to get started, then?" he asked Lily.

The witch was once again startled. "I'm in?" she asked warily (and a little disappointedly because  _really_  what was the point of being a spy if it was this easy?), "Just like that?"

"Well no, it's not like we're just going to start spewing our secrets without a little background check on you. You're not  _that_  fit, Evans, although it was a pretty close call," the wizard replied with a wink.

"Stop flirting and get to it, Arden," the woman in scrubs interjected irritably, "You can work on wetting her knickers later, you poncey prick."

"Always a pleasure to see you, Vinay," Arden replied, bowing cheekily in the woman's direction before continuing, "As I was about to say, we do have a bit of an initiation process to get through first. Here, take a seat."

Lily sat in the proffered chair while a jumpy-looking beanpole of a man (that she thought she remembered as a Ravenclaw a few years above her) rattled through a large, tattered trunk before taking the seat next to her, pearly vial in hand. "I've heard that you are a disciple of the gr-great art of p-p-potion making," the man said shakily, pouring a few drops of the vial into a plastic cup, "As am I. I-I would anticipate that you know wh-what this is then?"

The redheaded witch was a bit surprised that a man with such shaky hands was able to brew the unmistakable, impossibly complex potion that she now held in her hands.  _No scent_ , she observed,  _and no color either._  And she knew when she drank it that there would be no taste, either.

_Veritaserum._

"You expect me to drink this?" Lily scoffed, "You do know this is illegal, right?"

"That stick is so far up your ass I can see its tip coming out your mouth," Vinay said sourly with a roll of her eyes, "Everything is illegal now, you naïve prig, even holding that stick of wood that I'm sure a swot like you polishes as much as Arden does his knob."

"Language, Miss Singh," an elderly woman who was knitting in the corner clucked.

"Vinay's a pediatric nurse," Artemis told Lily under her breath, "So it kind of builds up all day. You get used to it."

"Right," Lily replied slowly, bewildered by this strange group of people, and the way in which they interacted. It was so loose, so chaotic. (And yet it reminded her of home.) She was struck by the fact that the woman, Vinay, who obviously  _had_  to be a Muggleborn witch, worked in a Muggle profession. How in the world had she managed to keep up her Muggle studies and Hogwarts work at the same time? Even for someone insanely neurotic such as herself, the thought of balancing those two things made Lily shudder.

And then her brain circled back to the Veritaserum.  _What the fuck._

"We-we here at the Resistance," the jumpy man told her, "Have always viewed Veritaserum as an underutilized resource. A-a more widespread use could surely s-s-solve so many of our society's current p-pr-problems, p-particularly criminal j-justice."

"And like Vinay said, or at least what she meant to say," Arden continued, "Is that everything we do is illegal, right? So we need to make sure we can trust you, that you're not some spy that's gonna snitch and get us all killed."

 _Well, shit._  "And if I say no?" she asked archly, trying to hide the anxiety that was creeping up on her.

"Then you end up with that dipshit brain of yours wiped and your ass tied as tight at your prissy twat to some tree in the middle of that shitpile called Newcastle," Vinay called across the room, "Or dead. Dead works too."

The russet-haired wizard looked pained, pinching the bridge of his nose. "We voted on this, remember Vin? We  _want_  her to join us. So try and conceal your inherent bitchiness for a few minutes, yeah? Trying not to scare her off right now."

The Indian woman huffed but remained silent.

"So, memory wipe then?" Lily prompted, "Or death?"

"Preferably the former," Arden nodded solemnly (and she couldn't quite tell if he was teasing), "We're trying to keep our body count in the double digits." At the witch's horrified look he added quickly, "Kidding, only kidding! So, you in or not?"

The redhead considered for a moment. Yes, the Veritaserum could completely out her and fuck up the whole mission before it even got started. And possibly get her killed. But, through all of her research she had learned that there were many ways to talk your way around the potion, to conceal little bits of the truth.  _And Dumbledore said he didn't expect deception_ , Lily scoffed in her head,  _And I'm the naïve one._

That was it, then. Might as well give it a go. She didn't want this whole day to be a complete waste.

(And she was desperately curious to learn more about the strange rebellion, was willing to do whatever it took to hear their story.)

"Alright then," Lily sighed resignedly, raising the plastic cup, "Bottom's up."

As she had expected, there was no taste to the liquid. It was a bit strange in a way, the complete absence behind it, even emptier than a glass of water. And she felt a buzzing at the back of her throat, the loosening of the vocal cords or some other poetic, completely unscientific description that seemed to litter wizard textbooks.

"Feeling it yet?" the nervous wizard next to her asked as he fiddled with the pearly vial.

"Yes," Lily said automatically, almost as if she had projectile-vomited the words. No thought, no hesitation.

For a second she thought she was on the verge of a panic attack. For such a control-freak, this was fucking terrifying, the complete lack of control. She was suddenly violently was regretting her choice.

 _You can do this_ , she thought to herself as she took a deep breath,  _It will all be worth it._

"Okay, this will only last about ten minutes so let's get down to it. First question, then," Arden asked, turning a chair around backgrounds to straddle in, coming face-to-face with her. And suddenly he was the man that had been singing that song, a hardened general with a simmering resentment for a disappointing world. There was not a hint of a smile on his face, no jokes to be made. The transformation was striking.

"What are your intentions in coming here today?" he asked.

"I want to know more about you, who you are and what you stand for," Lily replied, relieved at the easy truth behind the statement.

"Do you have any nefarious intentions towards us?" he asked.

"No."

"Are you in any way associated with Voldemort or the Death Eaters?"

"No."

"Are you a member of the Order of the Phoenix?"

"Yes."

"Are you planning on reporting all of this back to Albus Dumbledore?"

"No."

The whole room shifted, and Lily herself was surprised at her answer. She wondered if this was another one of her half-truths, if she had always planned on holding some things back from Dumbledore. Of protecting these people ( _her_  people).

Arden gave her an approving nod before shifting his gaze around the room. "Anyone have other questions?"

"D'you think he's fit?" Vinay called with a smug grin.

"Yes," Lily said automatically, clapping her hand over her mouth as she blushed.

"Oi, Vin, foul play there. Don't abuse the potion," the russet-haired wizard scolded irately, although he seemed to be suppressing a grin. (And Lily was once again struck by this transformation, from stone-cold soldier back to joking Irishman.) "That it?" The rest of the room nodded. "Then welcome to the Muggleborn Resistance, Lily Evans."

It was a whirlwind of information after that as they gave her their story, their history. Originally called the Association of Advocates for Muggleborn Rights, the group had been formed several decades ago, originally part of a political group that lobbied for Muggleborn rights in wizarding society. A few pudgy old men waved their hands as they were introduced as the founders, once big players in the Ministry, although long phased out as the pureblood families closed ranks in the government. They had been the instigators of many new laws that had passed, such as giving Muggleborns equal rights to Gringotts vaults without a wizard sponsor, allowing the Muggle families of Muggleborns access to magical establishments such as Diagon Alley, and holding landmark positions in the Wizengamot and other prominent Ministry circles.

As the political climate worsened, the AAMR had coordinated peaceful protests, mailed out leaflets, and even concerted a march on the Ministry one fall. However, it became apparent very quickly that it was far too dangerous to operate in the public eye.

"That snake-fucking bastard and his merry band of fuckwits started bashing our skulls in one by one," Vinay sneered.

The group had gone underground, and gotten a facelift in the form of younger leaders with a far more militant stance.

"We just want them to take us fucking serious," Arden bit out, the anger that Lily had seen that first night simmering to the surface as he was named as one of these new leaders,  _the_  leader, "They won't even name us in the  _Prophet_ , can't bear to admit that a bunch of Muggleborns could slip past their defenses. Or, in the Order's case, admit that anyone other than the all-powerful Albus Dumbledore could lead a rebellion."

"Nothing's changed," one of the old-dog politicians sighed, "Can't get anywhere in this world without a pureblood sponsor."

Although the group was adamant against their need for pureblood supporters, they did admit that without their connections and information it was difficult to orchestrate direct attacks against Death Eater strongholds.

"So we try to play it like they did in the Muggle wars of old," Arden explained, "Breaking up supply lines, intercepting communications, and generally just causing chaos."

"Making sure those ingrates can't sleep at night without pissing their sheets," Vinay interjected with a sour smile.

"Because if they don't feel safe, they won't trust their government as much," Arden agreed in a serious tone.

It frightened Lily a little, she wasn't going to lie. The things they did, so much of it was focused around civilians. They shot down owls using smuggled and silenced hunting rifles ("We rarely kill them, usually just maim them," Artemis had tried to assure Lily. It didn't stop her from feeling sick at the thought), used homemade bombs to blow up public facilities ("We always make sure they're cleared out first," Arden added quickly) and routinely erased the memories of the suppliers who sold to the different wizarding establishments and households so that they forgot to fill orders for months at a time.

It seemed the resistance group was walking down that narrow path of grey, where Lily could not quite determine whether it was wrong, whether it was right.

Either way you looked at it, though, it was clever.

"They consistently u-u-underestimate Muggle technology," the nervous man, Danny Barden she learned, told her, "And half the time cannot even identify what we used."

"If you do all this, why haven't I ever heard of you before?" Lily asked, voicing a question that had been nagging at her since she had first learned of it.

"They usually attribute it to the Order," Arden replied bitterly, "Voldemort, and the Ministry for that matter, don't see us as a real threat."

"The phallic-faced goat-brain," Vinay added helpfully.

The most intriguing thing that Lily learned that day was her own history, the history of all Muggleborns really. It was not a story that was told in History of Magic; it was not really talked about at all. It was a mosaic that had been pieced together from the people that had been there, had lived it, written down in journals and passed by word of mouth.

It was a story of repression, a story of an entire people being treated as second class citizens for centuries. Excluded from a Hogwarts education for years, still not accepted in wizarding primary schools, left to be seen as outcasts (as  _freaks_ ) as their true identities were held captive by pureblood society. Denied voting rights for decades, offered nothing but the most menial and humiliating of jobs, unable to advance themselves as they were excluded from politics.

It was a history of the silenced, the mocked, and in the end the murdered.

And with every word Lily felt herself begin to  _burn_. By the end of that first meeting, she could have set the whole damn world on fire.

"This will let you know the next time we meet," Arden had told her at the end of that first meeting, pressing a pager charmed to be long-range into her hand (apparently an idea from Vinay, who used them on the hospital floor), "Just, keep everything we said in mind, yeah? Let us know if you really want to get down into it, if you really want to fight."

She had been to two meetings since then, and was currently helping to prepare a strike in which they charmed every letter they were able to intercept from the owls into reading out the names of the dead,  _their_  dead, from centuries back. She had started meeting up with Arden often, laying under the stars and imagining what the world would be like if _they_  were in charge, if the pureblood families were broken down or disappeared all together. Rewriting their history, composing their future.

And that flame, that flame that had first burst into being that first night she had met Arden, now sustained her every day.

Anger, oh anger, how  _good_  it felt, how  _right_.

* * *

As she told her story, Lily was too caught up in her memories to notice the dread that was slowly growing on Benjy's face.

He had noticed a change in her, something that had been transforming, twisting her every day since Sancta Nox, since her best friend's death. The earnest, hopeful girl he had first met so many years ago seemed to be disappearing, eaten away a little more every day by a cynicism and rage that at first she had tried so hard to hide, but now shone as unmistakably as her flame-red hair.

And although he was relieved to see that she finally seemed to value her own life again (he had been anxiously watching her for months, doing his best to intervene but still afraid of what might come), Benjy was sick to his stomach over how disillusioned she was becoming over just about everyone else.

He knew that what was happening to her, what was happening to all of those like her was wrong. But there  _had_  to be another way.

As he watched her spiral into a dark hole of self-righteous rage, Benjy grew increasingly desperate in his effort to draw her out. So, he went for the most reliable topic to get her mind off of, well, anything.

"So, how are you and James Potter doing?" the American wizard interrupted the redhead's rant with a sly grin.

He was utterly surprised that instead of jumping into another new, fully-fledged rant on the bespectacled wizard's idiocy, arrogance, and general prat-ishness, she lapsed into an uncomfortable silence.

"It's complicated," Lily began with another one of her tired sighs.

Because it was. When her blood pressure had returned to normal and she had replayed the conversation she had with James during that night at the pub, she was horrified to realize that she might have missed the whole point. Had he been trying to tell her something?

(Had he been trying to tell her what she secretly wished he would?)

But she was still a tangled web of hurt and confusion and uncontrollable attraction that clouded her mind, and all of this left her completely unsure of where her true feelings lay when it came to the messy-haired wizard. And, even more unsure of what  _his_  feelings were.

(And then there was Arden, and this made her even more confused, made the whole thing even more impossibly complicated, left her brain spinning until her eyes were crossed form dizziness.)

And now she had no idea where to find James, couldn't pin him down to save her life. Sure, she'd seen at a few Order meetings and occasionally across the room, but other than that he was like a ghost. She couldn't help but wonder if he regretted what he had said (or tried to say) that night, if he was avoiding her because of it. And without the kind of air-clearing, wall-crumbling talk that she knew they needed to have ( _even as she dreaded every word to come_ ), she had no idea where to go from here.

Benjy listened as the whole James Potter debacle was laid out for him, start to finish, and felt his blood begin to boil. He could tell it was the first time she had said any of this out loud, could hear the turmoil in her voice as it shook. Fuck, he had  _never_  seen her this unsure of herself, and he had seen her laid pretty low. It seemed that Potter had come in and smashed whatever scraps of self-confidence she had left, after her parent's death, and Marlene's, and all those others….

But it got worse, didn't it? Because she cared about him.  _Fuck_ , the way she talked about him she might even love him. And either he was hurting her on purpose or too much of an idiot to see what she felt and was just being negligent with her feelings, but really it didn't matter when it came down to it.

Because, either way, he would destroy her.

And that scared the hell out of Benjy because she was already so broken, already filled with so much anger and pain, and if Potter razed the last few strings of her sanity (and with that new Muggleborn Resistance boy egging her on, Benjy didn't trust that fucker for  _one second_ ) then he had no idea what would happen next. But it would be nothing good.

There was hurt written on her face as she finished her story, and it made his stomach clench because  _dammit_  he would do anything to protect her, to keep intact at least one piece of her old optimism, her old innocence.

There seemed to be only one solution: he would have to kill James Potter.

* * *

James was exhausted. He had been working for nearly five hours straight now, going through his parents' old address book and sending letters to just about every foreign contact in there, asking for support and aid for the war. Food, money, bodies to fight on the front lines; hell, they would probably even take table scraps at this point.

He had always hated writing letters, particularly these stuffy, formal ones that reminded him so much of the stiff thank you notes his mother had always made him write every year after Christmas and his birthday. (Although it had given him exquisite penmanship, he had always resented his mother for the chore, as he knew that nobody really read them anyways.) But Dumbledore knew James would be the best one to carry out this task, that he had all the right contacts and knew all the right words to say. And, as always, the old Headmaster was never wrong.

See, before she had been a Potter, Euphemia was one of the Parkinson clan, a large family who had a long legacy of ambassadorships. Because of this, Euphemia had spent her whole life mixing with the highest circles in wizarding society all across the world. One of her best party tricks had been reciting the mottos, crests, and family trees of every prominent wizarding family in Europe, Asia, and a few parts of Africa too. James didn't think the Ministry for Foreign Affairs had half the rolodex that Euphemia Potter did.

Of course, they had sent or were planning on sending Benjy Fenwick along to many of the countries that James was in the process of getting in touch with, but Professor Dumbledore's hope was that sending him with letters of introduction would help the cause that much more. James's mother had been incredibly popular abroad (more than one heart had been broken when she finally settled down with Fleamont Potter) and a letter from the legendary witch's only son and heir would serve as a reminder of all that the wizarding society in Great Britain had been, and of what it could be still. Plus, they couldn't afford to send the American wizard to every single country and well-born family out there.

And as much as he hated playing off of his last name (which was nearly as much as he hated relying on his parents' fortune), James could not deny the logic behind Dumbledore's reasoning. So there he was, scrawling his signature at the bottom of the fifty-fourth letter, and wondering if his hand could really fall of from overuse.

He was just pressing his seal onto the letter, adding it to the towering stack on the corner of the table in the library room that he was using, when the door blew open with a loud  _bang!_

James was not all that surprised to see Benjy standing in the doorway. They'd been working together on this project, of course, and he and the American had been in and out of each other's rooms pretty frequently as of late, asking about this country's rules for etiquette and that noblewoman's niece's name and favorite color.

What he had not expected was the look of stone-cold fury on his face as he shut the door very deliberately behind him.

Now, this was not a look that James was unfamiliar with. He had seen it on fathers and brothers and even one jilted husband (which was a total accident, by the way) and knew that it spelled nothing but trouble (and pain, lots of pain). So it was with a practiced agility that the messy-haired wizard leapt over the back of his chair, eyes darting across the room as he looked for his wand ( _he really needed to get better about keeping it nearby, that was going to get him killed someday_ ) and tried to get as far away from the door (and the large, furious wizard) as possible.

Unfortunately, Benjy was quicker.

James felt his head knock back against a row of hardback covers as he was slammed into one of the bookshelves. " _What the fuck_ ," the blonde wizard hissed in his face as he grasped James by the shirt, " _Do you think you're doing with Lily?_ "

It was truly a fault of James that he did not have the best survival instincts. "Well, seeing as how you look like you want to kill me," he gasped into the other man's face, breath knocked out of him, "I'd say you already know."

(Or maybe he was just a masochist. Either way, he knew what came next.)

"You bastard," Benjy spat furiously, slamming James against the bookshelves again, "You  _know_  how fragile she is."

Now  _that_  pissed James off. Because sure, Lily Evans was off her rocker half the time but she was the  _strongest fucking woman_  he'd ever met and no one would tell him otherwise. "She's stronger than you give her credit for," he bit back angrily.

It was probably not the smartest decision, though, to argue with the man who wanted to kill you, as the messy-haired wizard was promptly reminded when the tall American switched his grip so that he was pressing his forearm up against his throat, not enough to suffocate him but enough for James to feel the crush of his windpipe. "Shut your fucking mouth," Benjy hissed, eyes flaring, "You don't know a  _thing_  about her!"

Once again, though, James just didn't know when to quit.

" _I_  don't know a thing about her?" he spat back angrily, "You've known her for, what, a year? Two years? I've known her since we were eleven, excuse me if I am pretty sure I can read her well enough to know she doesn't need  _you_  doing what? Defending her  _fucking honor_  or something?"

" _Someone_  needs to remind pricks like you that Lily is not the kind of girl you string along!" the American exclaimed, leaning his arm further against James's throat, "Not the type of girl you just  _fuck and chuck_!"

"It's not like that!" the messy-haired wizard managed to choke out (thinking in the back of his mind  _well it was a good run but this is how I die I suppose_ ), before he was cut off.

"I may be an American but I'm not an idiot," Benjy hissed in a low voice, pressing his arm against him even harder, lifting him up so that only his toes grazed the floor, "Give me one good reason to believe you."

"I," he wheezed as he began to see stars, his mind going fuzzy enough that before he could stop himself, before he could come up with a believable lie, hell,  _anything_  other than the truth, he blurted out, "I think I love her!"

The pressure against his throat melted away, and James's feet hit the floor. He bent over, hands on his knees, gasping for breath as he inwardly cursed himself in at least five languages because  _fuck_  he hadn't meant to say that.

(Although that didn't make it any less true.)

" _Jesus fucking Christ_ ," Benjy sighed, running both hands through his hair as he stepped away from the panting wizard.

"Yeah," James gasped as he began to regain his breath. Because what else was there to say?

"So the whole time…?" the other wizard asked, seemingly conflicted about whether he wanted this all to be true or not.

"Yeah," the messy-haired wizard said again, "I, just, it was one screw up after another, okay? I just kept on saying things and doing things…" James stopped himself, "I don't know why I'm telling you this. So, in conclusion, I'm a prat, Lily hates me, and you have no reason to kill me, yeah?"

"That's so fucked up," Benjy said, eyes wide as he seemed to be trying to piece all of his thoughts together.

"Thanks for that," James replied peevishly, officially done with the American wizard because  _fuck, he almost murdered me and now he wants to rub it in?_ , "Now, as much as I enjoy being strangled and talking about how much of a failure my love life is, I really do have some work to get to-"

"No, no, this is more important," Benjy shushed him, face scrunched as he worked through the whole mess in his head, "Merlin, this is all so fucked up. Whatever they taught at Hogwarts, it sure wasn't communication skills-"

"Like I said, thanks for the blast to the ego but I really have to-"

"Do you really love her?" the American interjected, cutting him off, his voice and face both more serious than James had ever seen them, "Like,  _really_  love her? This isn't more bullshit?"

" _Fuck_ ," the messy-haired wizard murmured under his breath as dragged his hands across his face because  _was he really going to make him say it again?_  "Yes, I love her," James said finally, resignedly, exhaustedly, "I think I've always loved her, okay? I'm just a fucking idiot, so you know what, go ahead and off me because I'm sure it will be far less painful than whatever mess I land myself in next-"

"I think she loves you too," Benjy interrupted.

And James's fucking world stopped.

"Wait,  _what_  did you just say?" he demanded, whipping his head around as he scrutinized the tall wizard, trying to find the telltale shift of the eyes or twitch of the lip that revealed that a prank was coming. Merlin, James felt like he was the punch line to some deranged joke anyways, it would just be the fucking cherry on top of the cake.

But Benjy's face remained still and serious as he repeated, "I think she loves you too."

And that was when the fireworks started.

James couldn't help himself. He'd waited a good ten years to hear that the redheaded witch, the girl of his dreams, the love of his life, could even just stand being in the same room as him. And now,  _fuck_ , she might love him back. Because he was. In love, that is, madly, insanely,  _effortlessly_  in love with her. Had been for years, from afar ( _very_  far thanks to the redhead's temper) at first, but now that he  _knew_  her, not just the perfect little angel that he had built up in his head but the messy, impossible disaster that was the  _real_  Lily Evans, he felt like if he could just reach out and hold her hand then the whole fucking war would stop because how could such pain and hate live in a world where something this purely  _good_  exists?

He didn't realize he was whooping and hollering, jumping around and punching the air, until the American grabbed him by the shoulders to still him. "I'm only, like, fifty-two percent sure on this so don't get ahead of yourself," Benjy told him, "I know Lily better than most but, still, it could  _really_  go either way. I'd say you have a sixty-forty chance, at best."

"But…" James prompted.

"But I think you _do_  have a chance," the other wizard conceded with a nod of the head.

The messy-haired wizard was just about ready to pop the champagne then and there, but paused for a moment. "Fenwick," he began to ask, "Why does it even matter to you, though? If I'm a prick to her, I'm a prick, whether I love her or not right?"

Benjy raked a hand through his blonde hair before letting out a sigh. "I still think you're a right bastard," he agreed, "But, I dunno, whenever she's around you or even talking, well really complaining, about you she seems more herself, more like the Lily I first met. And she's involved in this _thing_  right now, with these people that seem to be pulling her off the track, changing her, and…" He trailed off, a frustrated, slightly fearful look crossing his face before he finally said, "And I just think you'd be good for her." He nodded, finishing (quietly, almost to himself), "Yeah, you're good for her."

"So, what now?" James asked nervously because honestly he never thought he'd get this far.

"Merlin," Benjy said exasperatedly, covering his eyes with one hand, "You really are an idiot, aren't you? Go talk to her, dumbass!"

"Right," James agreed with a boyish smile, happiness and excitement (and yeah, he was nervous too, sixty-forty were not the greatest odds after all but he'd worked with worse) bubbling up inside of him as he rushed to the door. He paused when he reached the handle, though. There had, after all, been a reason he hadn't talked to her yet. "Hey, Fenwick?" he asked, "D'you know where she is? Lily, that is. To say we keep missing each other would be understatement of the year and-"

"Do I really have to do everything for you?" the American asked him, but seemed only amused now, "She's in her little potions lair right now, but move quick, she has a meeting with Dumbledore in half an hour."

"Thanks," James replied, his grin so strong it felt like it would break his face in two, "Really, thanks. I think you may have just prevented a real Romeo and Julio, or whatever it is, situation right here-"

"Just shut up and go already," the blonde wizard replied with a roll of his eyes.

"Right," the messy-haired wizard said again. He took a deep breath, trying to steady his heart, which was beating so fast it felt like it was trying to break out of his chest, and gripped the doorknob. Right as he twisted it, though, another figure barged through the doorway.

"Prongs!" Sirius was gasping, "And Fenwick too, perfect! The raid on the Carrow house went sideways, they need backup, like, yesterday!"

"But,  _oh fuck_ , can you give me five minutes?" James begged his friend because  _shit shit shit this wasn't happening, not again_ , "I have to-"

"What, need to powder your nose?" Sirius drawled, rolling his eyes, "They said  _now_ , James, get a move on!"

So, with one last agonized look at Benjy and a deep sense of foreboding shadowing the thud of his heart, James followed his best friend out of the room.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh wow guys, I am blown away by all the love that was in the comments this week! It's all been so encouraging and motivating, and I was able to bang out this chapter in only a couple of days because I just wanted to get it out as soon as possible for you! So, to all of the reviewers, this chapter is for you! I did a quick update this week because it may be two weeks until the next chapter, I have a bridal shower, a bachelorette party, and a wedding to go to (all unrelated) so I am going to be crazy busy. I will try and get the next chapter out as soon as possible! Anyways, enjoy the chapter and let me know what you think! (TW: Graphic depictions of violence).

 

19.

Lily's chest rose and fell rapidly as she pressed herself flat against the hedge, one wall in a sprawling maze that dominated the vast grounds of the Carrow Manor. She was out of breath, both from the sprint that had taken her from the manor house to the maze as well as the adrenaline rush that came from several Death Eaters shooting curses at her indiscriminately as she raced along the path.

It had been nearly an hour since Lily had been unceremoniously yanked out of her potions room by Dorcas, called away to serve as an extra wand on a raid gone awry. The Order had received intelligence that the Carrow twins were storing all of the wands that they had confiscated from captured Muggleborns in their family home in Northumberland. The Carrows were generally untalented wizards, only good for jinxes and curses, and the defenses on their home were mediocre at best. It was supposed to be an easy job, in and out in twenty minutes or less. It was a small team of only three that went in, just Remus Lupin, Emmeline Vance, and Dedalus Diggle.

The Carrows were not supposed to be home.

A dozen Death Eaters were not supposed to be waiting for them.

It was an ambush, and the team was more than lucky to have been able to send out patronuses to call for help before the battle began. The five Order members who had been at the Safe House and off duty (Lily, Dorcas, Sirius, Benjy, and James) had apparated to the manor right away, rushing to the team's aid.

They were outnumbered and scattered, fractured into groups of twos and threes across the manor grounds as the battle raged. And, isolated and cornered by the Carrow twins in the hedge maze, Lily was feeling more and more helpless.

It wasn't being on her own that scared her. She had known the Carrows in school and knew how they fought. They were all power and brute force, no skill or strategy to their name. Lily knew she could beat them; she could do it with her eyes closed and one hand tied behind her back. It was everyone else she was worried about.

Lily hadn't been on the battlefield since that day in the woods with James, the day they had faced Voldemort together and escaped by the skin of their teeth. The morning after she had barely been able to move, every ounce of energy eked out by the weight of holding up the ward around James while they battled their way out of the forest. When she had reported to Dumbledore later that day, he had expressly forbidden her from using her personal wards to protect other Order members whenever she was in the field from then on; she would be useless as a soldier if she were taking the blows for everyone she was with.

She had grown complacent in the bubble that was the Safe House, was used to feeling the heartbeat of everyone around her, of knowing that as long as they were next to her they were safe. Now her people were out of reach and out of sight, murderous psycopaths chasing after them.

And there was nothing she could do to protect them.

All she knew was she had to get back to them, to her friends ( _her family_ ), before they were injured or killed. Because this battle, this war, was quickly becoming more violent, more personal.

"What are  _you_  going to do to the filthy Mudblood when we find her, Amycus?" called the nasally, unmistakable voice of Alecto Carrow, "I'm thinking that I'll start with the toes and work my way up, piece by piece. The stuck-up bitch always did have a reputation for liking to take things  _slow_." She gave a wheezy giggle before shouting out a curse that burnt a hole through the hedge that Lily was hiding behind, coming so close to blowing her head off that her hair was singed.

She wanted to run, run as far and as fast as she could from the monsters that were hunting her, but knew that if they heard her it would only spur them on, give up her location. Instead, she slipped off her shoes and crept along the gravel trail slowly, silently towards the entrance to a different pathway of the maze.

Listening to that nasally voice taunt her, though, the redheaded witch shuddered as the sadistic leer that broke across Alecto's face whenever she sized up her next victim flashed across her memory. Lily had once walked in on her and a first year in an empty classroom after hours; the young boy was frozen in place, unable to move or scream as Alecto had torn off his fingernails one by one. Lily had tried to get the vicious Slytherin expelled but the first year had dropped out of Hogwarts before she could get any traction, offer up any proof. She still woke up in a cold sweat some days, haunted by the memory even in her sleep.

"I'm gonna kill her quick," came the heavy, grunting reply from Amycus, "See how much mud I can shove down her throat before she chokes."

"Oh, how poetic," his sister giggled gleefully in reply.

While Alecto had always had a perverse pleasure in the fear she brought out in others, Amycus had always watched the other students with a detached animal hunger. Lily had never outright caught the Slytherin boy getting into trouble in school, but there was always something off about him. Right before she'd graduated she had noticed that sometimes his dark eyes would linger over a girl for a second too long; days, weeks, months later she would show up in the Great Hall with bruises and glassy eyes. Lily had never been able to pin anything down because none of the girls ever remembered the night before. 

When it came down to it, Lily wasn't sure which one as worse, which one she would rather be caught by. Either one would mean a horrible, horrible death. 

She thanked Merlin, though, because it seemed she would never have to find out the answer to that question as she reached the entrance to the new passageway without detection. She slipped her shoes back on quietly, carefully, and edged a little further down the path. With another wall of vines standing between her and her hunters, though, she felt safe enough to take off at a sprint down the winding passage. 

A new order had been given only a few minutes ago, blue sparks littering the sky: fall back, retreat,  _get the hell out of there_. They had been fighting well, Lily had even thought they were winning, but something must have changed the tide of the battle in the Death Eaters' favor while she was distracted by holding off the Carrow twins. 

And the redhead witch had a sinking feeling she knew what it was. 

But that was not her problem, not right now. Because before the sparks had flown she had seen James and Benjy run into the hedge maze in pursuit of two Death Eaters, wands flashing like swords, the two of them white knights rushing into battle. 

They had not seen the legion of six Death Eaters that had followed them. 

And,  _dammit_ , Lily couldn't leave without them. 

So now she was darting through the maze, praying to every deity she could think of that she had taken the correct turn, that she could get to them before the other Death Eaters did. Or, at least get to them before it was too late. Before the battle was lost. 

But it seemed that no deities were listening to her today (perhaps caught up with the half-dozen other Order members who were fighting for their lives) because the next curve of the maze ran her straight into a dead end. 

" _Shit shit shit_ ," she cursed, turning around and getting ready to retrace her steps when she heard the heavy footfalls of her pursuers.  _Fuck, she thought she had lost them._

Before she could even begin to plan some other way of escape, they were upon her. 

"Well, well, well," Alecto wheezed with that milk-curdling leer, "Look who it is. You know, Evans, I thought you'd be much more difficult to catch. How disappointing." Beside her Amycus was silent, watching her with that hungry stare that made Lily wish she was wearing eight layers of clothes, that made her skin crawl. 

All three of them had their arms outstretched, brandishing their wands in a combative stance. For a moment they were frozen in time, nobody making the first move. The air crackled, though, with anticipation of the fight to come. 

Suddenly, Alecto stabbed her wand through the air, shouting a curse that the redhead had never heard of before. Despite the power of it, though, the spell was too slow; Lily sliced her wand through the air like a knife as she drew her shield, strong enough that the curse bounced off harmlessly. 

The other witch frowned. "You know," she continued as the three of them circled each other warily, "It's a hobby of my brother and I, hunting Muggleborns. The ones we capture, or 'arrest' I suppose is the politically correct term now. We take back the wands those dirty traitors stole and let them loose on the grounds. Remind them of the filthy animals they truly are, deep down." She grinned, revealing the pointed teeth of a demon. "Amycus likes to keep the wands. He's always loved his trophies." 

Lily felt like she was going to be sick. All of those wands piled in their front room, she had seen them, dozens of them, and every one of their owners… 

Lightning cracked through the air as the redheaded witch slashed her wand; it crashed against the ground with a hiss of flame, just missing Alecto as she barrel-rolled out of the way. The tight, austere bun the witch always wore was loose now, a frizzy mess that made her look even more crazed. 

"Quiet aren't you, Mudblood?" Alecto taunted, her eyes wide and a maniacal grin settling on her pinched face, "That's okay, my brother knows all the best ways to make a girl scream…" 

Moving in a synchronicity that only twins could master, the Carrows cast curses at her at the same time. Lily threw up her shield with powerful ferocity, and was able to block one of the curses easily; the other, however, had arced around her and hit her unprotected backside. It was a difficult technique, curving a spell, and the redheaded witch had not expected such advanced spellwork from one of the Carrows As she was thrown against one of the maze walls, wand clattering to the hard ground, she cursed herself, her arrogance.  _Never underestimate the enemy,_  she reminded herself as Amycus summoned her wand, leaving her helpless, hopeless. 

It seemed that the Carrows had the same lesson in humility to learn, though, because they advanced on their wandless opponent slowly, distracted as they argued over their method of torture. Bartered for her body like she was a piece of meat. 

"How about you take the left side and I get the right," Alecto wheezed in negotiation. 

"No," Amycus grunted in reply, "I want waist down." 

"I thought you wanted to choke her," Alecto huffed exasperatedly, "That means you get waist up then." 

Lily was blocking out their bickering, though, because she needed to  _think_ , to focus every thought and channel every ounce of energy into her fingers that had begun to prickle. She had been practicing day and night for weeks now, trying to perfect it, to achieve even a shadow of what the African wizards had been able to accomplish in the heavy tomes that Benjy had brought her. She could lift a pen, shatter a glass, light a candle, but could she do this? 

That was a silly question, though. Failure wasn't an option. She would rather kill herself than give herself over to those monsters. 

Her heart was racing, her stomach roiling, doubt pulsing in her skull. But it had to happen now because they were finishing up their negotiations, had come to an agreement (that Lily couldn't even repeat in her thoughts, it was too horrible) and were looking at her again, coming closer, _closer_ … 

So it was with everything in her body, her heart, her soul that she pushed her magic out through her fingertips, shouting " _Stupefy!_ " as she thrust her palm through the air. 

" _Amycus!_ " Alecto shrieked as her brother was violently thrown through the air, head hitting the gravel path with a sickening crack. She fell to his side before whipping her head back to face Lily, shouting, " _You bitch!_ " as she raised her wand. 

But Lily hand already wordlessly summoned her own wand, and Stunned the other witch before she could utter another word. 

With her foes both incapacitated, Lily allowed her hands to fall to her knees, bending over as she tried to regain control of her shaking legs. That had been too close, far too close. And all the things they had said, the graphic descriptions of pulling her apart ( _and all that was worse, so much worse_ ), it was almost too much for her. It was all flashing across her eyes, she could feel their hands on her body.  _Too close, too close, too close_. She felt like she could retch. 

But James, Sirius, and Benjy were still out there, and somehow in this fucked up world of theirs there existed even worse monsters than the Carrow twins. 

So Lily slapped herself once, twice in the face to bring herself back to the here and now. The sting on her cheek grounded her until she could feel the sharp gravel again, pressing through the thin soles of her cheap trainers. One breath, two. And she was ready again, retracing her steps and aiming a few well-placed kicks at the Carrows as she passed their rigid, unconscious bodies. 

A dark, twisted corner in the back of her mind called for more, wanted to repay the brother and sister for every hurt they had caused, for every threat that had skittered its way under her skin. To draw blood, to watch the light in their eyes fade out. 

But she was no killer, she reminded herself firmly, and there was more important business to attend to.

 

* * *

 

 

The maze was endless, claustrophobic, suffocating. As dusk settled the walls felt taller, the shadows longer. Lily was sure she was lost, was afraid that she would never get out. That she would die in here, trapped by the carnivorous vines that felt like they were reaching out to her. 

But just as she was starting to grow hopeless, Lily heard a noise. 

At first it was just a whisper on the breeze at first, but the further she crept along the path she was following, the louder it grew until she could discern voices speaking, arguing, even a laugh here and there. 

She recognized two of them. And she felt her stomach drop. 

She was sprinting again now, all of her thoughts turning to static as she pushed her legs, her lungs to the limit, needing to get to the voices, needing to stop what she knew was coming. In the distance she saw a break in the hedge wall, what must lead to another passage or a clearing, knew that's where the voices were coming from, she was almost there… 

Just before she turned the corner, though, hands materialized out of nowhere, one pressed over her mouth as she was yanked roughly backwards, away from the entrance. 

"Shhh," a voice whispered in her ear as she bucked against her captor, trying to break away, "Lily, it's me, it's James, stop fighting, I need you to stop fighting me." The redhead stilled herself, allowing her breathing to slow, until James's hands released her. 

When they did, she whipped around to face him, begging desperately in a harried whisper, "James, James they've got Benjy, you have to help me, Voldemort's got Benjy-" 

"Voldemort and fifteen of his best Death Eaters, yes," James interrupted her, looking more grim than she'd ever seen him. Fear had wrenched Lily's gut, taken hold of her heart, and she was seeing fire. "How did this happen?" she whispered furiously, "How could you let this happen?" 

"We got separated," he whispered back defensively, "I just now found him." 

"What's the plan then?" she asked, begged, "How are we going to save him?" He remained silent, avoiding her eyes now. "James?" 

He ran a hand through his hair, resignation on his face. "I don't – I just don't know, Lily." 

"We can't leave him though," she hissed unbelievingly, "We can't just leave him!" 

Again, James was silent. 

She was crying now, tears mixing with the blood that seeped from the cuts left by the hedge she had been thrown into, as she begged, "What would you do if it was Sirius, James? What would you do if it was one of your boys?" He ran another hand through his hair, a helpless look crossing his face. "You would die, James," she whispered fiercely, "You would die with them, die fighting, die  _together._ " She paused, swallowing a sob. "I'm not asking you to die for Benjy," she told him quietly, "I'm just asking you to not try to stop me." 

He let out a long sigh then. "I'm not leaving you, Lily," James told her, hazels eyes finally meeting hers, "I won't ever leave you." 

She nodded sharply, relief flooding through her body even as she was drowning in dread. Because now, if she failed, there would be twice as much blood on her hands. But she would need all of the help she could get. "So what do we do, then?" she asked. 

"See what we're up against, to start," James whispered back, inching back towards the opening in the maze wall and stealing a glance around the edge. Lily followed him, craning her head so that she could glimpse the clearing. 

The scene she saw extinguished nearly all hope she had of the three of them getting out of there alive. They must have been at the center of the maze, for a large, circular garden spread out before her, littered with statues and decorative benches. In the middle of it all was Benjy, bound to a tree with tight black cords and surrounded by fourteen masked Death Eaters. Another masked figured stood right next to him, wand pressed into the American's throat, ready to kill in a moment if he were so bid. In the time that she and James had been arguing the crowd gathered must have tired of Benjy's retorts because he was now straining against a gag as he tried to shout what she knew must have been either obscenities or threats. 

In front of Benjy, facing down the furious wizard with an unimpressed sneer, stood the skeletal figure of Lord Voldemort. 

"You Americans are truly an embarrassment to wizarding kind, did you know that?" the dark wizard was drawling, "The way you socialize and breed with not only Muggleborns, which is disgusting enough, but  _Muggles?_  It's  _vile_." 

Lily and James pulled back from the entrance and she couldn't look at James, couldn't see the truth written across his face.  _There was no way they could save him._

"I-I know what I can do," she whispered desperately, hysterically as she drew her wand with shaking hands, "My ward, I can cast it and he'll be saved, right? I can save him, I know I can do it. I can  _do it_ , James!" 

But as she whispered the words over and over again, tapping her wand to her chest harder and harder still as the silver liquid refused to flow, she knew it was hopeless. The fear was too deep in her heart, tainted it so that the spell was useless. 

"Lily," James hissed, grabbing her violent hands as she began to tear at her hair in frustration, "Lily, we-" 

" _No_ ," she hissed back, "I  _will_  save him, I  _will_ , I have to!" She broke away from his grip and moved back to the clearing entrance, to watch for some kind of sign that this was the right choice, some sort of moment that told her she stood a chance. She was filled with relief when she felt James follow her (she didn't think she could handle this alone, that she would just lose her mind because  _how was this happening how was this happening_ ). 

"That's not the only unfortunate trait of Americans, though," Voldemort had continued, "You have a long history of interfering with other people's wars, do you not?" He played with a ring he was wearing, twisting it around his finger, almost nervously. "And this bad habit seems to be catching. I have heard reports that you have been all over the world, trying to raise some sort of foreign army? Did you really believe I would let you get away with that?" 

Lily tensed her body, preparing to spring because it had to happen soon, she could feel it in her gut that something was coming, something  _terrible_. 

"I have decided I need to make an example of you," the dark wizard drawled, "To remind all of those other countries that you tried to sell some fantasy of resistance that this is not their war." 

Suddenly, Benjy's eyes flicked across the courtyard, their brilliant blue meeting hers as they widened in horror. 

"And, to show them that even if they  _did_  try to fight, they. Would. Not. Win." 

Benjy's eyes slid past hers, and she saw him give a nearly imperceptible shake of his head. 

"I think that sending a piece of you to every one of those countries should do the trick." 

It all happened at once. Lily surged forward just as James cast a Silencing charm on her and locked his arms around her like irons. Voldemort raised his wand and shouted, " _Confringo!_ " 

And Benjy, her beautiful, laughing, teasing Benjy was turned into a million pieces. 

A silent scream ripped apart her body as thick droplets of blood and tiny pieces of warm flesh spattered her face. Her legs kicked the air as James wrenched her back and she was sobbing and hitting his arms and her brain was pulsing against her skull, thudding and thudding because it was  _too much, too much, too much_. And James was facing her now, his lips moving but she couldn't hear a word because her ears were ringing, ringing like bells and nothing made sense anyways,  _not when her hands dripped his blood._

But that didn't stop him from grabbing her hand and dragging her behind him, back through the nightmare maze. Her world was tilted and she stumbled again and again, but still he held on, looking over his shoulder every once in awhile to make sure she was keeping up, that she was still there. 

In the purgatory of those moments it could have been minutes or it could have been years, but eventually they reached the exit of the maze and escaped down the slope of the manor grounds, reaching the edge of the anti-apparition zone that surrounded the house. James put his arms around her again, wrapping her up, and then they were gone. 

She was gone. 

 

* * *

 

 

They were the last ones to reach the Safe House. 

Appearing in the dirty alleyway beside the pub, James remembered the last time he and Lily had been there, fresh off of an impossible victory. 

And now… 

He wasn't sure whether Lily had noticed she hadn't stopped crying, whether she noticed anything at all. She hadn't even tried to wipe away the dark red droplets that coated her face like a perverse imitation of freckles. 

He kept his arms around her, guiding her out of the alleyway because if he didn't, he wasn't sure she would ever get it in her mind to leave. He shuffled them through the door, and as they entered the pub all of their friends, all of those who had been waiting anxiously for them jumped up and rushed to move forward. 

They stopped in their tracks, though, when they took in the scene in front of them. 

James couldn't imagine, didn't want to imagine what they must look like. Coated in another's blood, Lily sobbing and shaking as waves of shock rolled through her like the tide coming in. "Benjy?" Sirius asked in a whisper (even though James knew that Lily was too far gone to hear him). James just shook his head. 

_(The same way Benjy had shaken his head at James, begging him to save Lily, save the girl they both loved so desperately and he had but what now? What now Benjy? How was she supposed to survive this?)_

The room parted for the two of them, and when they reached the foot of the stairs James picked Lily up in his arms and carried her up the steps. He walked her down the hallway, stopping to open her door but passing through the rest of her apartment straight to the bathroom. 

He used one hand to turn on the shower before settling her under the streaming water. She did not notice the cold, and he didn't wait for it to warm before he stepped in after her and began working at her clothing, stripping off the bloodstained fabric. 

His hands, his shaking hands used the washcloth that hung over the bath faucet to wipe at her shivering skin, gently clearing off all the blood that coated her shaking figure. He pooled shampoo in his hand and ran his fingers through her hair to wash it all away, picking out the bits of flesh that had gotten caught in her messy, knotted curls. 

And then he held her in his arms as she cried and cried, until she ran out of all her tears and could cry no more. 

And all the while he whispered, " _Lily, I love you, I'm so sorry Lily, I love, I love you, please forgive me Lily, I love you._ " 

She did not hear a word of it.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! Turns out I was able to bang out this chapter on the plane rides to and from the bridal shower so it is way early! First off, though, I would like to apologize for Benjy (*sobs*). That was a particularly difficult death for me to write because out of all of the characters I've written so far in this story, he felt the most mine. I felt like I really built him from the ground up, he was truly my baby. I am so touched that so many of you felt so strongly about him, too, and I am sorry to do that to you guys. (That's the thing that kills me about writing this story, you know the entire time that everyone dies and it is the worst and life is meaningless?) Anyways, I am once again blown away by your lovely reviews, I absolutely live for them, and obviously they seem to help me write at an ungodly rate (you are killing my sleep schedule, guys), so I hope these fast updates show my love and appreciation for all of you readers!

20.

Lily disappeared the next day.

She left a note this time. Short and to the point, duplicated and lying on the pillows of each of her friends that morning. James was holding his in his hands now, folding and unfolding the faded parchment whose creases by now were almost ready to fall apart.

_To Whom It May Concern,_

_Starting today, I will be following a lead brought to my attention by certain intelligence avenues of a group of potential allies for the Order of the Phoenix. I will be completely undercover until further notice. Do not contact me. Do not try to find me. All further questions should be directed to Albus Dumbledore._

_Sincerely,_

_Lily Evans_

James had called bullshit on it immediately, and marched straight to Dumbledore's office as soon as he got off work that evening.

But he hit a brick wall.

"Miss Evans is indeed pursuing an undercover operation at my request," Dumbledore had told him dismissively, hardly looking up from the mountain of papers covering his desk, "I do not know how long this will last but she has promised to make at the very least monthly contact."

"You-you know what just happened to her, right?" James had argued, "Benjy Fenwick  _died_. And Lils-Evans, she was  _there_ , she had to watch it. I had to  _wash his blood off of her_. She has  _no_  business going on  _any_  mission, let alone an undercover operation all by herself!"

The Headmaster looked up then, back ramrod straight as he lowered his spectacles and looked James right in the eye. "Are you Miss Evans's keeper, Mr. Potter?" Dumbledore asked sharply, "Are you her father or her brother or even her husband? No? Then on what grounds are you questioning my authority on this decision?"

"Sir, I-"

The Headmaster was standing now, drawing himself to his full imposing height, his eyes dark and stormy (and for a moment James could see why they said that he was the only wizard that Voldemort feared), "Despite the rumors that I am a senile, oblivious, batty old man, Mr. Potter, I can assure you that my mind is as sharp today as it was the day I faced Gellert Grindewald all those years ago. I did not get through one war alive and triumphant, did not get to the position I am in today by sending my agents into the field when they are not fit and able. I found Miss Evans to be in complete control of her emotions and more than willing to take on the task of which I asked her. There is not a doubt in my mind that she will complete this mission in a more than satisfactory matter. Now, do you have anything else to say to me Mr. Potter?"

James felt like he had been stripped down to his schoolboy days, like he was being called into the Headmaster's office for a dressing down over some prank he had pulled. He began to feel that wallow of shame, that dread of how many points he would lose, what his parents would say.

But James was not a child anymore. And this was not a game.

"Sir, I understand what you are saying," the messy-haired wizard said slowly, measuring every word, "But with all due respect, I know her. I know her probably better than anyone-"  _anyone alive,_  "well, anyone. And, Professor, I have full confidence in your judgment, but I am afraid that because I lo – er – care about her to the degree that I do, I will not be able to leave this office without seeing for myself that she is, at the very least, taking care of herself."

With a tired sigh, the old professor returned to his seat. "I find I must apologize, Mr. Potter," he said with a tired, hoarse voice, "I had forgotten the ferocity of young love. If only we could bottle that power, this war would be over within the week." He shuffled some papers around on his desk before looking back up at James. "As I said before, Miss Evans is in the middle of a very delicate undercover operation. If any of us made any sort of move to seek her out we would blow her cover, and I have come to believe that could have fatal consequences." James felt his fists clench, and he opened his mouth to argue once more when he was interrupted. "I cannot let you go to her, Mr. Potter, but she can come to you. I can appoint you as her handler, her contact to whom she will report her findings to. I believe then you will be able to evaluate for yourself her mental health, her well-being."

"Th-thank you, professor, sir," James had said, taken aback by the turn of events (and more than a little startled at the Dumbledore's easy identification of his feelings for Lily. Not that he had ever been very subtle about it, but he didn't realize the Headmaster had noticed; he that thought it would be below his pay-grade).

"She should be in contact within the next three weeks. I will owl you the location and time for the meeting. You are dismissed."

So now James was waiting, standing in a dark alleyway in Gloucester in the freezing rain, waiting for Lily Evans to come to him.

With a crack she materialized in front of him, dressed in a charcoal grey raincoat with the collar turned up. Already James could see the difference in her: eyes sunken, thinner than ever, hair stringy and flat in the rain. But there was something else, a vibrating energy that made him suspect that if he tried to reach out to her, to touch her, he would walk away burned.

Her eyes, wild like a hunted animal, widened and then narrowed when she saw him. "What the hell are  _you_  doing here?" she asked in a low, threatening voice, "Where's Dumbledore?"

"The Headmaster was busy," James told her nervously. This Lily, the fiery anger that coated her words, frightened him. He had expected to find her broken, hollow the way she had been so many times before. This was different. This time, this Lily in front of him, she was dangerous. "He appointed me as point person for this case," the messy-haired wizard continued cautiously, keeping his voice as even and business-like as possible (like trying not to spook a doe caught in the headlights). "I'm supposed to take your report."

"You-you can't just 'Potter' your way into my mission!" she spat in reply (and he noticed her hands trembling, her delicate hands that he wanted to reach out and take, to hold and stroke and reassure her that everything was going to be okay).

And that little tremble, that little confession of hurt and brokenness, that's what broke James. "Lily, Lily we need to talk," James said desperately, ignoring her sharp words, "We need to talk about this, about what happened!"

"I have  _nothing_  to say to you," the redhead said, flames licking her words.

"Lily-," he said started again, hating the way he had to beg for scraps of her affection but unable to stop himself.

All she did, though, was shove the file that she had been holding into his hands (and he noticed that she took extra care not to touch him and he felt cold, stung). "Give this to Dumbledore," she told him brusquely, "And  _don't_  come back."

With that she turned away and disapparated.

And James was once again left all alone.

* * *

Lily couldn't stay in that room, in that house, in that  _place_  a second longer, couldn't walk the winding hallways that he had traversed with her, joking the way he always did, couldn't sleep in the bed that he had slept in so many times, holding her as she shook with the silent sobs of her nightmare, couldn't be  _anywhere_  that he had been.

Couldn't be in a world where he did not exist.

She didn't go to sleep, not really, had just gone into some other plane of existence as her body was battered by the shock of the loss. The other boy, the one with the dark messy hair and spectacles hanging sideways off his nose as he slept propped up against her bedroom wall, fuck she couldn't even  _look_  at him.

And she knew, knew in her heart that it wasn't his fault but she couldn't forgive him, not when  _her_  boy, her Benjy, had died and he hadn't let her die with him. The boy who had dragged her out of the ashes of her shattered life, she would rather burn with him than face this day alone.

She felt dirty, could still feel the shadow of his blood dripping from her skin, felt the guilt crawling on her skin like a team of angry insects ready to devour her alive. If she'd been faster, smarter, stronger, if she'd just been  _better_ , he would be alive. She had trained and worked and created powers beyond anything she'd read in books using just her imagination and sheer will, and she had still not been good enough, not been good enough to save him. In the moment when he had needed her most, that blink of an eye between when he had been living and when he was dead, she had not been able to make that godforsaken stick of wood work. She had failed him.

Lily crept into her shower, the one she faintly remembered being in before, and scrubbed and scrubbed at her skin until it was raw, until her own blood streamed down her skin, trying to get rid of the stain that had been left on her, imprinted like a tattoo. And somehow that was better, that she was bleeding for him, it helped erase some of the pain, some of the guilt that weighed her down like an anchor around her neck, the guilt of being alive when he was gone.

And then she ran.

In the middle of the night, the Safe House silent as if it were paying respect to the dead, she ran to Dumbledore's office. Told him she thought she should go full undercover at the Muggleborn Resistance, thought there was more to it than either of them realized, that she needed to completely immerse herself to discover the dark underbelly of the operation.

It wasn't totally a lie. There were whispers and factions, secret meetings within secret meetings, and Lily knew there was still so much more to learn about the MR.

But it wasn't the whole truth either.

The old Headmaster had watched her for five full minutes, his blue eyes feeling like they were piercing her soul. And somehow she knew he knew, could see the darkness that had crept into her, eating away at her like some disease.

But then he blinked, said yes, set up a meeting point for monthly reports, told her what she should be looking for.

(And she wondered what he had seen in her, what he had found that told him he could trust her with this. Because she didn't even trust herself.)

She apparated away to a little neighborhood outside of Inverness and used a telephone booth to call that number on the card that Arden had given her what felt like years ago (had Benjy's death aged her? She felt her bones breaking, felt her blood pulsing too fast, like her heart might explode. How ironic it would be if after all that, she were to die of a heart attack). On the other end of the telephone, that unmistakable squeaky voiced picked up. "MR Energies," Artemis said in a singsong voice, "How can I help you?"

"It's Lily Evans," the redheaded witch replied, fire in her voice, "Tell Arden I'm in. I'm all the way in."

* * *

She moved in with him, with Arden, in a cramped flat in Glasgow near the university. And though there were only four bedrooms it seemed that more than a dozen people occupied it, in and out at odd hours.

It was the Muggle Resistance, but something else, something more. It was the young, that core of militant, rebellious, angry witches and wizards that wanted to do more than mess with the supply trains of the Death Eaters, delay the post. They wanted to fight. The wanted to destroy. They wanted to watch the pureblood despot dynasty burn under the weight of their anger and dance over their graves. They wanted  _more_.

And it was everything Lily needed. The fury, the  _hate_ , it was food for her dark and twisted soul, sustained her, glued together those broken pieces that were in constant danger of falling apart, of shattering. They understood her, understood the need to stand in the middle of a field and shout into the open sky, rage against a sick world that allowed good people,  _pure_  people, to die in such an ugly way.

The MR militants saw themselves reflected in her burning eyes and welcomed her into their ranks with open arms. And now it was not just her and Arden staying up all night dreaming of a new world, it was a whole group of fellow outcasts, fellow survivors. The outsiders, the fallen, what so many of her friends in the Order would never be and would never understand.

They wanted peace, wanted fairness, wanted to achieve this dream of a utopian society where everyone got along.

The Militants just wanted to watch the world burn.

And so this faction, this rebellion within a rebellion planned and schemed and prepared to enter the war.

They had discovered early on that purebloods were completely ignorant of the way that Muggles fought wars, did not set up their wards to protect against modern technology. And the Militants used this to their advantage.

They planted landmines outside of a known Death Eater's house and watched from a hill as he was burst wide open.

They used flamethrowers to burn down a dark artifact trader's shop, watched his livelihood wither away in the flames.

They used flashbombs to raid a dark wizard's home, one who had been trading in Muggle women he had kidnapped, selling them to the highest bidder.

And Arden had raised a pistol to the man's temple and pulled the trigger.

And Lily felt  _alive_ , every drop of blood spilled a reminder of what those sick bastards had done to her friends, her family.

(But she worried there would not be enough dark wizard blood in the world to balance the scale of her loss.)

(She worried if it would ever end.)

* * *

James was waiting again. Same alley, same freezing rain, but three weeks passed. He was early, and he was  _never_  early, but he had been slowly unraveling with the strain of not seeing her.

But when she apparated into the alleyway, he almost wanted to turn and run.

Her skin was rubbed raw, cracks tracing intricate patterns up and down her pale skin. Her hair that had been such a flame now sat stringy, washed out, dying. Her cheeks were hollow.

It was the eyes though, those eyes that scared him.

They were crazed, gleaming with a madness, a shadow of darkness that told him she had  _seen_  things,  _done_  things. And the anger that flared in him when she took in him, that it was _him_  again and not Dumbledore that was waiting for her, frightened him because he did not know what she would do next. What she would be willing to do to him in her blind rage.

( _He had never been afraid of her before.)_

"I told you not to come back," she said harshly, coldly, a shadow of hate hiding in her words.

And he almost wanted to yell at her, to fight her, to tell her to  _snap the hell out of it,_  that she was going to get herself killed, or worse. That she would lose herself, lose that inherent goodness that had defined her for so long.

But for once he didn't rise to the bait, didn't attack.

Instead, he said in a voice that cracked with all of the emotion he was trying to pack into the words, "I couldn't stay away."

And she softened, just the tiniest bit, a tiny crack appearing in the fierce warrior armor she was wearing. Her shoulders slumped and he saw all of the pain she was carrying, could see the sickness of hate, the thirst for revenge that was slowly poisoning her. Could see the weakness that came of a soul slowly dying.

"You can't do this, James," she whispered, "You can't do this to me. Please, just let me go."

"You know I can't do that," he replied, a weight of sadness in his voice, "I can never let you go." He reached out to touch her, try and show her that love that said  _I can save you_ , hand barely touching her shoulder before-

She flinched. Violently, turning her whole body away from him, facing the grimy walls and arms wrapped around herself in a tight hug ( _fiercely trying to hold her pieces together_ ). "I just-I just can't right now, okay James?" she whispered, an aching pain lacing her voice, "I can't." She held the file out to the side, and slowly James took a few steps forward until he could reach out and grab the files for himself. Making sure not to let his skin touch hers.

Before he turned to go, he heard her whispering again, so low he was not sure he was meant to hear it.

"I can't, James," she whispered again and again, "Not now. Not yet."

* * *

Seeing him, it had hurt. It had hurt so bad, threatening to pull her apart because she could see it in him, could see all of him for the first time in her life.

Could see in the way that he looked at her that he loved her.

And she knew that he wanted to take her away, to be the one that held her together through all the pain. But she couldn't. Couldn't stand his touch because of the way it reminded her of  _blood and bits of flesh splattering against her skin and death death death_  and it wasn't his fault but she couldn't, couldn't be in his arms when he hadn't let her go to him, hadn't let her get her revenge against those monsters even if it killed her.

That was the thing about James, he was always saving her.

But that was the problem, now. Because at the last mission with the MR, when they had caught the bad guy that had been keeping a family of Muggleborns in his basement, running experiments on them like guinea pigs, she had been the one. Arden had wrapped her fingers around the gun and lifted it to the man's temple.

And she had been the one to pull the trigger.

Not even James Potter could save her anymore.

* * *

The next time they met, James was worried.

Now, he always worried about Lily, day and night, with every paper he filed in the Auror office and every scouting he mission he went on for the Order. As he brushed his teeth in the early morning, as he ate supper at dusk, he worried about Lily Evans.

But this time was different.

She was the first one there, pacing back and forth in a crazed path, as if a demon was chasing her. "Here," she had said, shoving a thin, sparse file at him (and he was anxious because it had been nearly a month since he had last seen her and this was all she had? Was she holding something back?), turning as if she was ready to apparate away.

"Wait," he had called to her, "Wait, Lily, what's wrong?"

"I have somewhere to be, James," she told him, hands twisting in an agitated manner.

"Lily," he said again, "Lily, I'm worried about you. These reports, I've read them, and I just don't trust these people, the Muggleborn Resistance, my guts says there's something deeper, darker going on. I don't want you to get pulled in-"

"You don't trust them?" Lily spat, hackles rising defensively, "You don't even  _know them_. You don't know what they've been through, what we've been through, the way we've been treated like dirt, like second-class citizens our entire life. And you, up on your self-righteous pureblood pedestal, deigning to  _save us_ , as if we can't save ourselves-"

"That's totally unfair and you know it," James interrupted her angrily, utterly taken aback by the fire behind her words. "And war isn't about revenge, it's about trying to establish peace-"

" _Peace?!_  There will be no such thing as peace for Muggleborns until the old pureblood dynasties are completely eradicated," Lily spewed. And then she covered her mouth with her hand, realizing what she had said. "I didn't mean-" she tried, "James, I'm so sorry-"

"It's fine," he said sharply (hiding the way the words twisted his gut because t _hey sounded so familiar, Lily are you hearing yourself?_ ), "But I think you need to get out of there. I'm going to talk to Dumbledore about pulling you out. I don't think it's safe for you anymore."  _Not safe for you, not safe for your soul._

Her fire was back though. "You can't pull me out," she ranted, raved, "You can't pull me out! I have more to do, more missions planned. You have no right-"

"This is getting too personal for you, Lily," James told her, "You're losing sight of the mission, just going after revenge-"

"This war  _is_  personal!" she shouted at him, "It's about a group of psychopaths who want to kill me solely because of the blood that runs through my veins! There is nothing more personal than this war!" She paused, before continuing more quietly, "And I can't let them get away with it."

James knew she was reciting the names of the dead, that list that haunted all of them day and night. And he had nothing to say to her, didn't know how to convince her that there was another way, a way to fight without the hate that was poisoning her, killing her more everyday.

So all he said was, "Just, you still have the mirror that Sirius gave you, right? Keep it on you.  _Please._  If you get in any trouble, just call me. Can you promise me that?"

He saw her gulp, another chink in her fire-forged armor. "I promise," she said quietly. "But James? I'll be okay."

They both knew she was lying.

* * *

They crept along the path under the light of the moon, using whistles and birdcalls to give each other the all clear. It had taken barely a minute for Lily to dismantle the weak wards around the building. Not that it was much of a surprise. No one was expecting an attack on a primary school.

One of the things that killed her, that infuriated her was that Muggleborns had to wait until they were eleven until they got the letter from Hogwarts, to learn what they really were. Eleven long years of loneliness, of confusion, of being ostracized, of being a _freak_. Rewind to a few hundred years ago and they could have been burned at the stake during a witch hunt long before they got that letter.

And all the while the elite, the powerful, the  _pureblood_  sent their precious darlings, their little heirs to the private wizarding primary schools that were scattered across Great Britain. They were taught about who they were and how to contain their magic. So immersed in the magical community that it all seemed  _normal_ , the unexplainable phenomena that surrounded them every moment of every day. Where the impossible somehow fit right in.

It was this kind of societal barrier that set Muggleborns up for failure. When they entered Hogwarts they not only had to grapple with the natural anxieties of starting a new school and trying to keep up with all of their classes, but come to terms with the fact that staircases  _moved_  and paintings  _talked_  and all of those monsters in the closet and fantasy books on their shelves, all of their dreams and all of their nightmares were  _real_. They were one step behind everyone else, Muggleborns were, from the very start.

It just wasn't fair. And so they were making a statement. Blowing down that barrier by blowing up the school. A little less subtle than Lily normally liked her metaphors, but she figured it would get the message across.

It was easy, all too easy to get into the building, pick the locks because  _somehow wizards never prepared for that_ , to break through the doors and traverse the unlit hallways until they reached the auditorium, where they had planned to set everything up.

But what Lily found when she entered the cavernous room stopped her dead.

"Arden," she whispered, taking in the dozen of terrified looking children guarded only by two elderly women with arthritic hands and crooked wands, "Arden,  _why are they here?_ "

Because it was supposed to be empty. It was nearly eleven in the evening on a Sunday night and the school should have been deserted,  _no one was supposed to get hurt_. What the hell were the children doing there?

"Lily-," the russet-haired boy began, but she wasn't hearing it because everyone else in the group, all of the other MR militants looked utterly unsurprised, had already disarmed the two other witches and were taking off their backpacks and unpacking the explosives they held with experienced hands. And on the wall she saw a poster, hand drawn and announcing a lock-in at the primary school for an extra Astronomy field trip. This date, this time.

It had all been planned.

The redhead grabbed the Irish wizard's hand and pulled him out of the auditorium into the hallway. "Tell me," she said, her emerald eyes begging him even as she knew the answer, shoving the poster in his face, " _Tell me_  you didn't know they were going to be here."

"Lily, I-"

And that was all she needed to hear. Because she could hear the confession in his voice, and it pierced through her mind that had been clouded with anger and hurt because there was no  _guilt_  there, he felt  _nothing_  in the face of what was sure to be the death of a dozen innocent children.

"Oh Merlin," she said, turning around and walking down the hallway, putting her hands on the back of her head and she fought through the effort of breathing as her lungs began to work overdrive, hyperventilating, " _How?_  How could you do this, Arden, even  _think_  of doing this? They're just innocent kids!"

"Innocent?" Arden scoffed, and Lily's head whipped around as she took in the sharp edge to his voice, the  _dangerous_  one that he had never once directed towards her before, "Not a single one of those pureblood brats is innocent. You know who they are, right? The Mulcibers, the Flints, the Crabbes and Goyles, the same people we are fighting but in miniature form. You know as well as I do, Lily, what these kids are going to grow up to be. Bullies, blood purists,  _killers_. Just like their parents."

"I can't believe you!" she shouted, "This makes us no better than  _them_ , than the Death Eaters killing Muggle families who can't fight back!"

"And how are we doing in this war?" he roared, "How are our good guy tactics playing out? We're getting slaughtered out there, Lily, you know it as well as I do! We're never gonna win this war if we don't start fighting dirty, same as them!"

"So we kill children?" Lily shouted back, " _That's_  your grand plan to win the war?"

"They're just another part of the pureblood despot dynasty!" Arden raged, "I thought you wanted to watch them get destroyed, to burn it all to the fucking ground! I thought you wanted to watch it burn with me!"

"Not like this," she said evenly, coldly, "Not like this."

"I hate to be a cliché," he replied, his words simmering with anger just like his amber eyes, "But you're either with me or you're against me. You have five minutes to make a decision. Then the rest of the MR will decide what to do with you."

As he turned and walked away, bursting through the doors of the auditorium and into the room that held a dozen terrified kids, Lily let the backpack she had been carrying drop to the ground and leaned back against the wall, slowly sliding down to the cool stone floor.

_Howdidthishappenhowdidthishappenhowdidthishappen_

How did she get here? She had been a girl, an idealistic little girl when she had first entered Hogwarts, full of dreams and the belief that magic could solve everything. And then she'd been called Mudblood for the first time and the bullying wasn't just not inviting her to a slumber party like it had been at Muggle school anymore, it was cursing her behind her back so that her bag split open or her shoelaces tied and she fell down the stairs. It was telling her every day that she was less than the rest of them because of her blood.

And it had made her feel small.

She had let it make her feel small.

And then she'd let that feeling make her angry and bitter. The losses she had suffered, she'd let them twist her insides around so it wasn't just sadness that she felt but that darkness inside of her that told that her that the means justified the ends. Told her that because of everything  _she_  had been through, she was justified in doing horrible things to other people.

She should have recognized it, that kind of logic, should have recognized it long ago. Lily had always thought of herself as a good person, liked to think of herself as the heroine in the story. That she wore the white hat, that she was fighting for the greater good.

But the good guys didn't hurt people just because they could.

She had let herself get dragged down, down to  _their_  level, the Death Eaters, where collateral damage was okay as long as they reached their goal in the end.

And Lily had lost her white hat, lost her sense of right and wrong.

But she wouldn't let it go on a second longer.

She pulled the backpack that she had set on the ground closer to her, unpacking it with a churning stomach as she set aside the cold explosives that she had carried with her that night. She moved past them, though, searching for one of her old favorite sweater wraps. Pulling it out, she began to unfold it until it revealed a pocket-sized mirror.

" _James_ ," she whispered to it, repeating it over and over again until a pair of sleepy hazel eyes peered at her through the mirror, "James, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, you were right about everything, I'm so sorry. I need your help."

* * *

They were sitting in her room now, backs against the cold cylinder bricks of her wall, three feet settled in between them. It was a cool night, goosebumps rising on their skin. And everything was silent, the air still and even the stars shining less brightly as if to dull the world a bit for those two heartsick young lovers.

It was those three feet between them that was getting to Lily. Three feet that  _hurt her_  because she wanted him to know how thankful she was for saving her, for being that hero that she had nearly given up hope on. She wanted him to know that she understood now, could see him clearly for who he was, could see how with every failure and every mistake he had ever made he had forced himself to  _power through_ , to grow and reach these ideals that he had of what a hero should be. He would never reach them, but he would never stop trying because that who he was, because he was  _good_.

And she could see the way he looked at her, that he  _believed_  in her even though she had stumbled and fallen and was bruised and battered and broken down more than she would ever let herself admit. That he saw past all of that for all that she _could_  be, didn't put her up on a pedestal but held her accountable because there was so much more to her than that twisted monster that she had let eat at her soul, and he wasn't going to let her give up on herself. He saw all that they could be together, these warriors who picked each other up when they fell, defended each other's backs and pushed each other to fight harder. They could be friends, they could be partners, they could be so much more.

And she felt it, that seed that had been growing inside of her for months, that feeling that she had around him when the world was quieter and she felt that just maybe everything would be all right because  _he_  was here, James was here, and when someone so purely good and heroic existed in this world how could evil stand a chance?

He made her laugh, he made her feel safe, he made her feel loved.

And yet, those three feet in between them were the only thing that was letting her breathe.

Because when he had held her in his arms as they had apparated away from the primary school back to the Safe House she had been pulled back like a doll on a string back to _that day_ , felt the blood spattering against her skin, chunks of flesh hitting her face, all the while his arms restraining her and it was  _toomuchtoomuch_  all over again…

And she'd been sick in the alleyway the moment they landed.

She loved him. She knew it, deep deep down in a way that frightened her because it felt both like it had appeared overnight and like it had been there forever, but she loved that boy, she loved James.

But right now she couldn't even look at him.

Because she was still broken, a million little pieces that were no longer held together by some toxic rage but were being scattered in the wind, and she was chasing after them trying to pick up them up, trying to put herself back together. She had a reason to fix herself now, had finally remembered what it was she had to live for, but that didn't make it move any faster, didn't mean she wasn't still cutting her hands on the shards of loss that littered her soul.

It would just take time.

She didn't know how to say all of this, all of the words bouncing and jumbling around, didn't think he would understand because, hell,  _she_  didn't even understand what was happening in the mess of her mind so she said all that she could think of at the moment.

"Thank you."

It startled him, the boy in the glasses who had been patiently waiting for her to make a move, not like she was some rabid animal but like she was a clock that he was waiting to hear chime. He knew nothing he did would make it move any faster, and he was perfectly fine with that. The way he had sat down next to her, paying close attention to the distance he kept and even keeping his hands still for once in his life, she knew he would have waited for her forever if she asked.

"Of course."

Because for him it was an easy answer. He didn't just wear the white hat, taking it on and off when it suited, that's who he  _was_. Ready to jump into a fray at a moment's notice. Fight the bad guy. Save the children of his enemies. And do it all simply because a girl, a girl who was completely unstable and had been acting like she hated his guts, the girl he loved, asked him to.

"Lily, I need to say something."

She knew what was coming. And she hurt again, this time even more as crippling pain laced her heart in a way she hadn't known possible because more than anything in the world she wanted to hear those words. But she couldn't, not when in the back of her mind was the  _toomuch_  and the guilt of not being enough (not for Benjy, not for Marlene, not for the dozens of others she had failed to save) and the fear of that dark and twisted thing still inside her that made her wonder if she even deserved happiness after all she had done.

Like she said before, she was still broken. But she hoped, prayed, told herself fiercely with every breath she took that she wouldn't be forever.

And so she said all she could.

"Don't say it. Not now. Not when I can't say it back."

"Then I'll wait."

"You'll wait?"

There was no hesitation in his answer.

"For as long as it takes. Always."


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends! Thank you so much for your patience as I struggled through this chapter (turns out I'm better at writing angst than fluff and I'm wondering what that says about me as a person? Especially because this isn't even that much fluff lol). Anyways, this chapter ended up being a bit of a filler but lots of character development so I hope you enjoy it! (And next chapter is a big one so get ready!) Thank you all for your lovely reviews, they are my life force!

21.

 

Lily and James’s relationship had always been marked by what could only be called explosions.

At first it was the arguments, shouting at all hours in the common room over what they now realized were petty subjects but at the time felt like life and death. Their tempers would erupt, catching plenty of others in the fallout, and then their anger would simmer for weeks, months until the next fight came around.

And then it was the sex. The attraction that would catch them both off guard, the passion that threatened to engulf everyone and everything in its flame. It would flare, consume them as they were caught in the moment. And then they would leave each other out in the cold, with nothing but charred cinders and the sting of hurt to remind them that it had ever happened.

But now they fought against themselves, against their natural inclination to blow up at each other first and ask questions later. They were both too burned, too battered, too broken to take one more hit.

And so they were gentle. Careful. They moved slowly, building up a relationship, a love, out of the ashes of their lives. Bit by tiny bit.

 

* * *

 

It started with little notes.

She woke up the next morning propped up against her whitewashed wall, back sore with a crick in her neck. And alone, although she couldn’t decide if she felt better or worse because of it. She missed him, missed the safety she felt when he was around and the warmth that he gave off, warmth of personality that reminded her that goodness still existed in the world.

But, with him gone, she could breathe.

So she stood, only realizing when she was on her feet that she had no idea what happened next. Where did she go from there? She had seen too much, done too much, strayed too far from her moral compass and had no idea how to get back on the trail. If she would be welcome there anymore. And, if not, how to regain the faith and trust that so many people had held in her before. 

Because she _wanted_ to be good again, _needed_ to be good because too much of her soul had been eaten away over the past few months, and she had to get it back or risk never being able to look at herself in a mirror again. 

She wanted to be that person again, the one who wore the white hat and fought the bad guys, who protected all those she loved and even some that she hated, as long as she was doing what was right. She wanted to stand for justice again, for good, for everything that all those she loved had fought and died for.

She owed it to them. She owed it to herself. 

But no matter how strong her convictions were, how focused her goals, she still had no idea how to take her first step.

And that’s when she saw the first note. 

 _EAT_ , it said, written in an unmistakably messy scrawl on a crumpled piece of parchment lying on her bed. It was accompanied by a selection of breakfast foods on a tray. And although she felt nauseous at the sight of it, even though her brain was running through the usual thoughts of _you’re not hungry you don’t have time you don’t deserve it don’t eat_ she somehow found herself following the directions of the note, picking out an only slightly burnt piece of toast. And, shredding it into tiny crumbs, she was able to get down almost the whole thing. 

She knew what came next because she was feeling the itch again, that dirty feeling crawling over her skin. She hastened to the bathroom and had almost fully undressed before she noticed the second note. 

 _NO SELF-DESTRUCTION_.

And it didn’t ease all the hurt, didn’t completely help her forget that ghost layer of blood that she couldn’t seem to escape. But, with the directions written in his handwriting wriggling in the back of her mind, as she showered she only furiously scrubbed at her burning skin three times over, compared to her usual five. 

It helped. 

The third note was on her door, and she faced it after she had dried and dressed herself, attempting to prepare herself for the day ahead. For the many apologies she would make, for the many mistakes she would have to account for. Prepared to shoulder the guilt and shame of everything she had done (and failed to do) without her anger to lean on, without seeking out other to punish and blame. 

 _IT’S NOT YOUR FAULT_. 

That’s what the third note said. And she didn’t believe it for a second because _of course_ it was her fault, she had a list ready in her mind to explain every single reason it was, every single way she could have prevented all of these mistakes that had left graves in her wake. 

(But, she thought in a small corner in her mind, maybe, just maybe if she saw those words enough times she might start to believe them.) 

And then came her first step, that first step out the door.

 

* * *

 

James had set up shop in one of the many abandoned rooms in the Safe House, although it was really more like a closet, but he was willing to take what he could get at this point. He had gotten used to having his own space at the Aurory, and now that he had officially resigned to take over as Head Mission Operator with the Order (and also because half of the Ministry wanted to literally kill him, which definitely made networking a bit difficult) he really needed it, needed the chance to get away from his prodding friends and the constant stream of refugees in and out of the place in order to sift through the massive amounts of paperwork he was now receiving: mission reports, intelligence outlines, Order meeting summaries. 

And now he had a headache. 

Because this time he was writing his own report, one that he shouldn’t be writing because technically it hadn’t been an approved mission, just James grabbing whoever was around the Safe House at the time and running off to Dartford. It had been an easy mission since Lily had told him about all of the Muggleborn Resistance’s defenses and because the MR wasn’t expecting an ambush. They had been able to get in and out with no casualties, had Obliviated the students and chaperones so it was like nothing had ever happened. 

But it _did_ happen, and James had had to tell Dumbledore, and now he was writing up an incident report to give to the Headmaster for him and the other elder leaders of the Order (Moody, McGonnagal, etc.) to survey as they decided the fate of the MR Militants that they had taken into custody. 

It had been three days since the incident, and James still hadn’t talked to her, to Lily that is. He wanted to run to her, hug her tight, shake her shoulders until she was rattled because _how could she do that to herself_ but he had stayed away. And it killed him but he had to, because every time he entered a room he saw her shoulders tense, saw her flinch whenever he got too close. So he kept his distance. 

And she had kept hers. 

That is, until a charmed paper bird flew through the gap in the door he had propped open (okay, so it really _was_ just a closet and it got stuffy in there after awhile), landing gracefully on top of the report on his desk. The second he touched it, it unfurled into a flat piece of parchment again, a slanted, looping script: _thank you, for the notes and everything, for all of it. l.e._

And then with a pop it transformed into a steaming cup of coffee, three sugars, just the way he liked it. He smiled at the mug, and not just because he had been definitely needing some caffeine (and he _really_ had been). No, it was because it meant she had seen them, the notes he had glued to her mirrors and shoved in between the pages of her books, the self-help ones. It meant that she was looking at them, reading them, maybe even listening to them. It meant she wasn’t mad at him for it (which, if he was being honest, he had completely expected, she had never appreciated when he had hidden notes in all of her things before, although those had been of a far less appropriate nature). That she wanted to talk, to establish contact again. 

It meant she was missing him. 

But he was careful, cautious in a way he couldn’t have even fathomed just a few years, hell even a few months ago. He had grown up. He realized now that when it came to love, things couldn’t just change because he wanted it to, that things didn’t happen according to his schedule. He just had to wait, to be there whenever she was ready.

And, as he had told her, he would wait as long as she needed. Always.

 

* * *

 

As time passed it became a game between them, the notes. Appearing in pockets, folded into flowers and various animals, even floating in the other’s soup. Jokes, gossip, interesting things they had learned throughout the day. Stories about their childhoods. She told him about her favorite sandwich shop from back home. He sent her one that said _did you know that tittynope means a small quanitity of something left over? apparently most people don’t, I just got nearly assaulted at the leaky cauldron because of it_. 

There were still reminders, too. Lily found one in her shoe one morning that said _TALK TO YOUR FRIENDS_. She wanted to pretend that she hadn’t seen it but she was pretty sure that James had put some tracking spell on the notes that let him know if she had read them or not; he would only pester her with charmed paper insects if she ignored it (that’s what he had taken to doing when she ignored the _EAT_ notes he left all over the place).

And she couldn’t deny that he hadn’t sent it with good reason. She had been avoiding her friends since she had returned, still too raw from loss and ashamed at her actions to face them. They would want to know what she had seen, what she had done. They would pity her (which she couldn’t stand) and try to comfort her (which she didn’t deserve). 

But she did it anyways, talked to her friends. Bore through their pitying looks, tried to be as honest as possible about that had happened since Benjy’s death. Told them her part in all the destruction and suffering that had circulated around her for months. At the end of her tale she looked up at them, Dorcas, Mary, Alice, and Ellie, waiting for their reactions, expecting horror and judgment on their faces (hoping for condemnation, to finally have a sentence to serve for her sins). 

But all they did was hug her, hold her hands, stroke her hair, murmuring soothing words until she was crying. 

“Those people, they deserved it, right? All the things they’d done,” said Dorcas with fierce eyes and a reassuring squeeze of the hand. 

“And you stopped where you needed to,” Alice added, “There’s a line out there, between good and evil, and you didn’t cross it.” 

“Your scales are still balanced,” Ellie assured Lily as she petted her crimson locks, “And the red on your aura, there’s only a little bit left, and it’s been shrinking every day.” 

“Whatever that means,” Dorcas murmured under her breath for only Lily to hear (and she almost, _almost_ smiled). 

“And I know whatever we say, these things will still weigh on you,” Mary continued solemnly, wisely in the way the motherly woman always felt, “But all the amazing things you do for the Order, for the refugees that pass through here, those outweigh the bad that you’ve done. You may not feel it right now, but someday you’ll see it.” 

“Now you know where that line is, too,” Alice added, “And you’ll never come close to crossing it again, I know it.” 

“At your very core, Lily Evans,” Ellie told her with a surprising finality, “You’re good. That’s all you need to know.” The other three girls nodded in agreement. 

And Lily felt the tightness in her chest loosen, felt herself able to breathe just a little easier. She had sat in front of a judge, faced a jury, and they hadn’t found her guilty. Not innocent per se, but not guilty. 

They said she was redeemable. And that was more than she had even dared to hope for. 

James had been right about needing to see her friends. She couldn’t go on carrying this weight on her own, isolating herself until she spiraled into depression and self-loathing. She couldn’t cut off her friends just out of fear of loving them and then losing them, as she had with so many others before. That wasn’t the way to live a life worth living. 

Lily wasn’t used to James being right. With a small smile she thought, _He must have grown wiser while I was gone_.

 

* * *

 

It was weeks before James finally worked up the courage to see her in person.

It was more of a pride thing than anything else, the avoiding her. After enduring the piercing pain in his heart every time he’d seen her flinch away from him, James slowly came to the realization that it wasn’t really his fault or hers. Mary, the Muggleborn saint that she was, had helped him find a book on post-traumatic stress disorder (a term which at the time made his eyes glaze over) but after reading up on it and understanding how it affected soldiers returning from war (and growing a bit indignant that the wizarding world had barely half the understanding of psychology as the Muggle world) he realized that Lily’s reaction to him was probably a subconscious one. His arms around her, his touch, his very presence really all brought her back to the day when Benjy died, to that moment when he had held her back while he best friend died before her very eyes. James knew now why Lily acted the way she did. 

Not that it helped much. The sting of the way she turned away from him, unable to stand the sight of him, he still felt it every damn time. And he wasn’t a total masochist (despite the many insinuations from his friends over the years), so he’d stayed away.

But Lily had seemed to be doing better, was growing used to being a part of the Safe House, the Order, and generally the normal world again. He still rarely saw her smile, let alone laugh, but she had been gaining back some of her weight and spending time with her friends again. She even went to Order meetings occasionally (and leaving the Safe House at all had been a huge step for her). It was all progress. 

And the notes, too, the way they’d been writing back and forth with the same levity that they might have found passing notes in Transfiguration class back at Hogwarts, the way she sounded like _Lily_ again, it was promising.

So he grabbed a cup of earl grey tea, sprinkling honey and vanilla into it (the way he knew she liked it, he had way too many facts about Lily Evans stored in his brain), and made his way through the winding hallways to her potions room. 

From outside the door he could hear loud bangs coming from inside the room, and the occasional explosion. James raised his hand hesitantly to knock at the door; whatever was happening inside the room didn’t seem promising for a happy reunion. But he had come all the way here (put his paperwork on hold for the moment because he was afraid he’d chicken out again if he waited too long), and anyways he had put a good amount of effort into making the tea and it was sacrilegious to let it go to waste. So (after an embarrassing amount of time in which he was paralyzed by a fit of nerved) he knocked. 

Silence. 

James supposed over the sound of the bangs and explosions that she might not have heard him (or at least he hoped that was the reason, he was not sure if his battered ego could take another outright rejection at the moment). So, living in the state of denial that he had come to often habitat, he hesitantly opened the unlocked door. 

It was only thanks to his first-rate Quidditch reflexes (which had somehow not dulled over the years) that he was able to dodge the book that came hurling at his head. 

“Oh Merlin, sorry James!” came Lily’s lilting voice, swinging around in a clearing in the stacks of books that littered the room to face him. 

And then she froze, caught in the intensity of James’s stare. 

Because he couldn’t stop. Staring, that is. The way she looked now, he was afraid to blink, afraid the moment he closed his eyes Lily, _this_ Lily, would disappear forever. 

Her ponytail was still swinging with the momentum of turning to face him, springy with the signature curls that had re-emerged with the shine and luster of her crimson locks as she regained her health. Her lips were still parted in laughter (a sound he hadn’t heard in so long), soft and pink in the way that made his palms begin to sweat as if he was in fifth year all over again. She was wearing a twirling dress, and even though it was still a bit too loose it hinted at the curves that had begun to bloom again. Her cheeks were pink with the exertion of whatever she had been doing to cause all of those explosions, and he could see the sparkle in her emerald eyes was back because _she was looking at him, looking right at him and not turning away_. 

They stood facing each other, Lily and James, trapped in the other’s gaze. 

Until, that is, James was clocked upside the head by another flying book. 

“ _Dammit!_ ” the messy-haired wizard cursed as he stumbled over a bit, dropping the tea cup and spilling the hot liquid all over the floor (as well as down the front of his trousers). He glared down at the broken cup and fallen book that were splayed on the floor, not sure which he resented more for ruining what had been shaping up to be quite a romantic moment. 

It seemed, though, that there was a more animated subject to be blamed as Sirius trotted out from behind one of the many book stacks calling, “Sorry, Prongs, didn’t see you there!” 

“Oh, um, yes, well,” Lily stuttered awkwardly as she stared down at her hands, “Well, I better get back to work then, yeah?” She started to walk away, but turned back to flick her wand. The teacup reassembled itself, all of the liquid flying back into the cup with a rush as it landed in her small hands. “Oh, and um James? Thanks for the tea,” she said quickly with a blush before retreating into the stacks. 

As soon as she was gone, Sirius walked over to James and clapped him on the back, solemnly intoning, “You’re welcome.” 

“What for?” James snapped, still rubbing the sore spot on the side of his head, “Nearly killing me? Or for scaring Lily off? Neither of which I am thankful for, in case you were wondering” 

“You were floundering, mate,” Sirius replied with a laugh, shrugging off James’s glares, “It was painful to watch. Not that Evans was any better, Merlin help her.” 

“It’s the first time we’ve talked since, well, since she’s been back, really,” James said (and the anger at his friend was quickly dissipating, replaced by the sadness that seemed to weigh him down whenever he thought of just how damn much he missed Lily), “I knew it wasn’t going to be perfect, right?” 

“Thank wasn’t talking, Prongs, that was staring. Awkward, embarrassing staring,” his friend replied, “I _had_ to stop it before one of you blurted out something stupid and ruined the whole thing.” 

James was about to argue that it was in fact Sirius himself who had ruined it all, but stopped himself when he realized that what his friend was saying was (depressingly) very much true. He and Lily’s track record during unexpected encounters was beginning to resemble that of the Chudley Cannons’ (whose current season was 0-22). “Fair enough,” he eventually conceded with a long sigh, “What are you doing in here, anyways?” 

“Evans is using me as practice for her ward,” Sirius explained as he began to meander through the stacks again, James following him absentmindedly, “She’s trying to get it so that she can cast her ward quickly and in high-stress circumstances, even non-verbally if she can.” 

James was silent, trying to breathe through his suddenly strangled lungs. He knew why Lily was doing this, his mind flashing back to the desperate prod of her wand and pleading whispering of incantations moments before that fatal spell hit Benjy. 

He was so distracted by the wrenching of his heart for the lovely, brokenhearted girl that he didn’t notice that all the while Sirius had in fact been steering him towards the redhead in question until he nearly stumbled right into her. 

“So I thought James could help us out with your little experiment,” Sirius was telling her as she glanced back and forth between the two boys, twisting her hands nervously, “That way I don’t have to curse myself when we’re testing out the wards.” 

“Oh, I don’t know if that’s a good idea-” 

“I have work to get back to anyways-” 

James and Lily spoke at the same time before stopping abruptly, gesturing at the other to continue as they fumbled over their words.

(James couldn’t figure out why something that came so easily to them on paper, in the notes they wrote back and forth, was so impossible in person.)

“Hopeless,” Sirius muttered under his breath before he grabbed each of them by the wrist and pulled them back into the clearing, “As the only acting adult present I have decided that James will stay. No arguments.” He glanced pointedly at the other witch and wizard before continuing, “Let’s get this started then, shall we? Lily?” 

It started out a bit awkward, their spellwork clumsy and inelegant. But after awhile they worked out a smooth rhythm amongst the three of them, and James ended up staying the rest of the day, working up a sweat as they passed through the fluid motions of the many spells that they cast. Lily set up her ward again and again, the silvery liquid coating Sirius as she timed herself, trying to get her spell cast as quickly and silently as possible. James worked on thinking up increasingly creative curses and jinxes, finding any way he could to work through the ward. 

As Lily grew faster and her wards stronger, her mind working at a million miles an hour as she made imperceptible tweaks to the spell that James could hardly begin to comprehend, he noticed her entire body begin to relax in a way he hadn’t seen in months. She smiled as the two wizards bantered back and forth, and even laughed once or twice as a few of James’s more creative jinxes wormed their way through the ward, leading to Sirius doing magnificently bizarre things such as dancing an Irish jig and reciting the Greek alphabet to the tune of God Save the Queen. The excitement in her eyes as she was challenged by a spell, the way she bit her lip as she canvassed one of her many books and exclaimed in triumph whenever she found the answer she was looking for, it all brought back memories of the Lily before the war, the one James watched longingly across the Common Room as she studied with her friends. 

He hardly dared think it, let alone say it, but she seemed _happy_. 

(Or maybe not happy, maybe a ghost of what happiness used to be before the war, but it was still something. She was still exceptional in its glow.) 

Despite the way James collapsed in bed at the end of the day, exhausted by the most intensive round of spellwork he’d had since the Auror Academy, the wizard found that from then on he couldn’t stay away. Again and again he found himself filling up his free time knocking around in the potions room, throwing spells around at whoever they could talk into playing practice dummy (and James found himself reluctantly playing that role more than once as well) or diving through the mountains of books for some key idea that they had been missing for the ward. They still couldn’t find a way to make it withstand the Unforgivables, but the spell was growing, becoming something more. Growing stronger. (The same way Lily was, blossoming again right before his eyes). 

And it was true that the two of them had become a ‘they’ again, a partnership, a team. LilyandJames, brought out in one breath as the other occupants of the Safe House complained about the noise that consistently came from the potions room. The two of them together the way it always almost was, the way it still could be. 

Suddenly they could be in the same room again, eating a meal together in the pub or shut up in James’s office (closet) as they worked together to examine different intel. There was still a careful space between them, a table in separating or a strategically placed chair, providing room for Lily to breathe. And there were still words that hung in the air unsaid, James trying his best to be patient as the redheaded witch took those tiny steps towards regaining her physical and mental health. 

But at least she was able to look him in the eyes again. And for now, that was enough.

 

* * *

 

There were still bad times. 

The first time Lily touched James was to hold his hand as they watched a little girl die on a cot in the Hospital Wing. James and his team had found her in Scotland, one of the many poor souls they liberated from a secret concentration camp for Muggles and Muggleborns in Altnabreac. She ended up dying not by any magical means but from tuberculosis brought upon by the inhumane conditions she was forced to live in; by the time she was freed, the poison in her lungs had spread too far for Lily to save her. She died merely an hour after arriving at the Safe House. 

James had saved hundreds that day, but none of that mattered to him as he watched the little girl’s last struggling breaths. All he could think of was that he had been too late to save her. 

And so Lily fought with every fiber of being to overcome her demons and grip his hand tight, leaning her head against his shoulder as he wept over the body of a little girl, gone so quickly that he hadn’t even learned her name. 

And then there were days when the demons that still haunted Lily night and day dragged her back to the moment of Benjy’s death, reliving it over and over again as if trapped in her own personal hell. She would scream her horror and cry with grief as she mourned her best friend all over again, until she heard heavy steps leading to her room and the sound of a back sliding against the locked door. 

Even as she felt like tearing at her hair to get those horrible memories out of her head, so lost in the nightmares she barely had a grip on reality, she knew James had come. And she would crawl to the door, leaning against it as her body violently shook with sobs, her breathing made up of labored gasps. She could not reach out to him the way she wanted to, could not bear to touch him or even see him when the living nightmares came back like a plague to poison her mind, but the warmth coming through the thin wood comforted her all the same until her breathing slowed and her eyelids drooped in exhaustion. 

She would fall asleep, leaning against the wood, her fingertips almost but not quite touching his under the crack of the door. As soon as he heard her breathing slow, James would carefully open the door and catch her, carrying her over to her pitiful bed. As she slept James would lean against the wall and keep watch, just in case the nightmares came again. 

There were still bad times, yes. They were in the middle of a war, after all. But as James grew more patient and wise, and as Lily learned to forgive herself and slowly began to allow herself to love and accept the love of others again, it became easier to fight off the despair that threatened to drown them all, easier to dampen the anger that flared at every wound sent their way. 

When they were together, the bad times didn’t seem nearly as bad.

 

* * *

 

At times throughout the months that passed they went through periods where they hardly saw each other, only in passing in the hallways of the Safe House or across the room at Order meetings, but it wasn’t completely on purpose anymore. James was always either locked in his office (closet) bogged down with mission reports, or out in the field running missions himself. Lily had rededicated herself to the Hospital Wing in penance for all the pain she had caused, not to mention all the overtime she spent in her potions room.

But still it was there in that shy smile that Lily gave him at the last Order meeting and in James’s laugh when she cracked a joke (at Sirius’s expense, of course) for the first time since Benjy’s death. In the way that neither of them moved very much as they passed each other in the narrowest hallway in the Safe House, bodies pressing against each other a little more than necessary as they passed. That string that invariably tied them together, it was still there, and slowly growing stronger.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends, sorry that it took so long for an update! I started student teaching and that has just been destroying my free time. And this is such a pivotal chapter, one that I've been envisioning from the beginning, that I didn't want to half-ass it, ya know? Anyways, thank you all for your patience and your reviews (I seriously go back and read the reviews whenever I am having a bad day, you guys are my inspiration) and enjoy this chapter!

22.

 

“Hey Ellie, do you know where Lily is?” James asked as he trotted up to the bar, where the fairy-like blonde was polishing a glass.

 

It had been nearly four months since Lily had returned from her undercover mission with the Muggleborn Resistance, four months of a painfully slow recovery but a recovery all the same. Lily’s hands no longer trembled when she worked with the gruesome cases in the Hospital Wing and she was eating at least two meals a day. She was less manic about her work in her potions room and she only woke up with nightmares every other day. She cried less, smiled more.

 

It was never going to be perfect; after all that Lily had seen and experienced she would never truly be whole again, never be the same shiny girl that walked into her first Order meeting filled to the brim with hopes and ideals.

 

But war had affected them all, had changed them all. It wasn’t just Lily; none of them would ever be the same.

 

But she was better, Lily was doing better, and she had finally been cleared to go on her first mission. Her assignment was to help escort a group of war orphans to one of the Safe Houses near the east coast that was helping place children like them with different wizarding families in Europe that had offered to take them in. The idea of it made little parts of James’s brain combust. He was happy of course, nearly overpowered by the love that bulldozed its way across the channel from those dozens of families who blindly pledged themselves to protecting those lost children. But knowing that such loving people existed in the world only made the dark disease that had spread across Britain, the evil and the cowardice combined, more starkly evident.

 

For the mission she was going with a partner, of course, no one went on solo missions these days except under extraordinary circumstances, and everyone was going to great lengths to keep Lily under the most normal circumstances possible. Predictably, James had pleaded with Dumbledore to let him accompany her on the mission (James was still a little nervous about letting her out of his sight for too long) and was surprised when the Headmaster stopped him only a minute into his ten point planned speech to agree. The messy-haired wizard supposed that Dumbledore was growing used to the idea the he and Lily were a package deal.

 

(Especially surprising seeing as James was still only barely used to the idea that they were a package deal himself.)

 

They were running late now, though, a result of he and Mary getting in quite the argument with one of the pub’s food suppliers (who knew Mary was such a firebrand about locally sourced produce?) and James needed to find Lily right away to get on the proverbial road. However, it seemed that the blonde witch in front of him had little interest in any of this because all she did was look up briefly, eyes hazy and inscrutable as she looked right through James, before going back to polishing the glass with her sleepy hands.

 

James let out a groan. He could not pinpoint the precise moment when Ellie Fate had started disliking him so much, but he was sure that by at least third year she had begun to hate him with as much of a fiery passion as the dreamy witch was able to produce. Of course, she was always quite passive aggressive about it, simply making every conversation they had as jumbled and unsettling as a walk at midnight through the Carrow maze. He had known her for a long time, though, long enough that on a normal day he was hardly bothered by it all, usually just did his best to avoid her and was able to carry on perfectly well.

 

However, he had just gotten back from arguing for nearly an hour with a greedy old Muggle about the price of potatoes and he was pretty sure the back of his neck had sunburned while standing out in those fields for so long and he had been a nervous wreck all day about Lily and the mission and Lily _on_ the mission and this was _not the damn time_.

 

“Listen, Fate, I don’t have fucking time for your crazy right now,” he snapped irritably, jamming his hands in his pockets, “Just tell me where Lily is, right?”

 

This got her attention. She lifted her strikingly pale blue eyes and smiled gently, saying in her characteristically soft voice, “Wow, but fuck you.”

 

It was striking, the way she said it, in the kind of voice that was meant to be talking to flowers or singing to woodland creatures, and somehow that made it all worse, made her words feel like truly a slap in the face.

 

“Seriously, what the hell is your problem?!” James shouted at her (and he knew he was letting out his stress, his nervousness about the mission ahead, on her, even felt the tiniest bit guilty about it, but at the moment he couldn’t be arsed to care).

 

Ellie smiled absently again with those blank eyes that never quite focused right, completely unshaken by James’s outburst, “Well, this morning I stubbed my toe on my bedframe, and then I found a crack in my favorite crystal ball and I need to replace it but we haven’t gotten paid in a couple of months so I’m not sure when-”

 

“ _Merlin_ ,” James huffed in frustration, pulling at his hair as he ran a hand through and barely resisting the urge to tear it right out. He’d forgotten how damn specific you had to be with her, she had to be certifiably insane with the way her mind wandered in and out, never getting directly to the point. “No, your problem with _me!_ ”

 

James had never really seen Ellie truly focus on anything in the world around her; it was always like she was looking over your shoulder, seeing something you never could. So when she finally turned her eyes on him, the pupils darkening to a deep shade of purple as she stared him down, the he felt a chill go down his spine.

 

“It’s not _my_ problem,” Ellie hissed venomously, ominously, with a fury suddenly made James feel infinitely smaller, “It’s _hers_. Lily. You keep on chasing her even though she has told you to leave her alone _over_ and _over_ again. And not only that but all you bring to her is trouble, all you bring her is pain!”

 

And James wanted to roll his eyes and shout at her and punch a wall all at the same time because it was so much truth and such a lie all wrapped up into one excruciating wave of feeling that he was constantly riding on. Merlin, didn’t she realize that he _knew_ this? But he stuck with his party line, the one he told himself over and over again when Lily was at her worst and he was feeling hopeless, the one thing that kept him going as he walked through the war-torn streets of the wizarding world. James looked Ellie sternly in the eyes as he said slowly, surely (more surely than he had ever truly felt), “Things are changing, I know you see it, you would have to be blind not to. Me and Lily, it’s going to happen. Not today, not tomorrow, but someday, someday it’ll happen. And she’s happy, okay? She’s happy with me. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

 

“It doesn’t matter!” Ellie shrieked, eyes wild and hair fluttering up around her as if it was caught in some violent storm. Her eyes were nearly full purple now, all of the white gone as if she had been possessed. And even though James had stared down some scary shit, had faced Voldemort himself, he found himself taking a step back and she continued to scream, “None of that matters! She can _never_ be with you!” The glass she had been holding in her hand shattered, shards of glass flying everywhere, leaving her hand covered in tiny cuts.

 

But she didn’t move, and neither did James. The two of them just glared at each other, staring the other down as if playing a game of chicken, not wanting to be the first one to move.

 

Finally, as Ellie’s eyes cooled back down to her usual pale blue, James said stiffly, “Well, I’m going to find Lily then.”

 

“Fine,” she spat in reply.

 

“Fine!” he shouted back as he stormed away, feeling a bit childish but not caring because he was just so damn frustrated. He didn’t know what to do, what it meant for his and Lily’s future if one of her best friends hated him so unconditionally.

 

And even though he found her eventually, Lily, and she gave him a tiny smile before they apparated away, he went into the mission with an ominous feeling in his stomach.

 

* * *

 

 _She was fine. She was fine. It wasn’t going to be like last time. She was fine_.

 

Lily told herself this over and over again, a little mantra playing in the back of her head as she walked through the dark, damp forest, two tiny hands in hers that she lifted every so often when they came to a root or fallen log that those short little legs of theirs couldn’t get over by themselves. There was something about being around children that calmed her, grounded her and gave her some sort of strength that she was never quite able to recreate. It was their innocence, their vibrancy, their inexhaustible passion for life even in the shadow of a war. And she could relate to them, these little orphan children, and almost envied them their opportunity to escape from it all, to find a new family to take them in and love them and keep them safe far away from all this mess.

 

Because she didn’t feel safe, still felt as coiled as a spring even in the glow of such childlike wonder because she couldn’t stop remembering the last time she was out in the field with the Order like this. The mansion, the maze, that scream, _her Benjy…._

 

 _She was fine. She was fine. Everything would be alright. She was fine_.

 

Lily breathed a deep sigh, trying to loosen the ever-present tightness in her chest that came with her chronic anxiety (not as bad as it once was, as it was only a few weeks ago, but she still found herself counting the bits of carrot on her plate instead of eating them or pulling unnecessary all-nighters after a rough day, little slips of self-destruction). She saw James’s head whip around at the sound, mouthing _Everything alright?_ with those sweet, worried eyes of his. She gave him a tight nod and even tried a reassuring smile, although it may have more closely resembled a grimace; she was still out of practice with the smiling thing.

 

It had helped, though, that feeling of knowing James was watching her, was making sure she didn’t fall apart at someone saying the wrong thing or because of a tree bent just so that brought back some dark memory. She was still shaky on her feet, as well as desperate to prove herself, both of which made her a bit unreliable and flighty, like a wild animal, easily spooked. But the way James was watching her out of the corner of his eye, well, these days he knew her better than anyone, maybe even better than she knew herself (seeing as she was still avoiding certain parts of her own mind, but she thought that was for the better after all). He would see the moment she began to break, would spring into action the moment she wavered, and this felt the same way sitting in a plush armchair at the end of the day did, that the infinite comfort of having a safe place to land. How convenient it was having her safe place as a person, she thought with a bit of a wry smile; she could drag him anywhere.

 

(And he would follow her anywhere, to the ends of the earth, because she was Lily and he was James and _Merlin she loved him so much it just bowled her over sometimes.)_

 

And that was another reason she was so nervous, so skittish with every step she took. She had been putting it off for months, been too nervous and too tired and her brain just so all over the place that she could hardly even think the words let alone confess them to his face. Saying ‘I love you’ to James Potter was a big deal, supposed to be grand with fireworks and champagne and long confessions of sweet words. Not impulsively blurted out when he handed her brown sugar and almonds in the morning without a second thought and she was suddenly reminded like a punch to the stomach that she loved this boy who remembered her oatmeal topping preferences with the same casual certainty that he knew his own name.

 

There was also the problem that she was still not entirely sure she was sane. She slipped out of her mind sometimes, the world tinged with the strangest bluest shade of grey as she went about her work for that day. Her mind just wandered, floating in the air somewhere above her right temple. That was the thing about James, too. He deserved the world, he did, Lily could hardly believe she hadn’t seen it before. And she just couldn’t bear to tell him, to trap him the way she knew his loyal heart would at the mere whisper of the words, couldn’t bear to tether him to some batty witch who had lost her mind to the stars.

 

So she had decided that this would be her test. If she could get through this mission, overcome the demons that hissed at her every step of the way, to do something was purely, indisputably good, Lily had decided that it would be the final indicator that she was herself again. She would finally be ready.

 

She would tell him.

 

So she let her stomach swoop when James looked over at her again over his shoulder and gave her that crooked grin of his, a laughing boy clinging to his back as he gave the most theatrical piggyback ride she had ever seen. She let her hand brush against his as they stood on the shore and waved at the tiny airplane flying away, taking six little kids to a new home. And she let herself smile softly into his hopeful eyes as they began their hike back to the Apparition point, walking a bit too close until she finally let her hand slip into his.

 

And then all hell broke loose.

* * *

 

 

Strangely enough, it wasn’t fear that James felt when he saw the group of Death Eaters looming in the trees around them. It wasn’t really anger, either. It was this overwhelming, gut-wrenching feeling of _are you fucking kidding me?!?_

 

Because _dammit dammit dammit_ something had just been about to happen, Lily was holding his hand and looking at him in that way and _dammit_ he had felt it, this was the moment, she was finally ready for those three words he’d been holding back so painfully that he was sure he had literally bitten his tongue at least three times.

 

(Because _Merlin_ the way she’d laughed at some lame joke of his the other day, it was still ringing in his ears, and the way she was with the kids made something stir in his heart that he’d never felt before and _fuck_ who was he kidding, she’d finally started eating again and her tits looked _great._ )

 

And then these fucking Death Eaters, _really_ , it was getting a bit too predictable, them showing up at _the exact worst moment._ And in the back of his mind he knew he should be paying more attention to this, the goddamn Death Eaters _always showing up_ , that it was an indicator of something bigger at play. But he was distracted because Lily had pulled her hand out of his to draw her wand (had already stunned two of the group actually, Merlin he loved that girl) and now he had to draw his own wand and fight a band of Dark wizards rather than crashing his lips against hers as he dearly wished to.

 

 _Dammit_.

 

Things moved quickly, as they always did in battle, but at the same time every so often time froze, or at least slowed down for a moment, when he took Lily in. She was like some avenging angel, the way her hair billowed out behind her from the force of a particularly strong spell, her wand slicing and lashing its way through the air like a whip. She looked ferocious and _strong_ , more sure of herself than he’d seen her in months, like she was being re-forged in this battle, becoming invulnerable and unyielding.

 

 _Stunning_.

 

(Pardon the pun.)

 

He was quickly reminded of the other traits that when with the old Lily Evans, though, when she yelled at him sharply over the noises of the exploding trees and earth around them, “James, you dunce, the mirror! The mirror!”, jarring him from his slight state of distraction (awe). He moved his wand quickly as he built up some cover fire before distractedly fumbling through his robes with the other hand, looking for his palm-sized mirror.

 

It was supposed to be an easy mission, taking the orphans to the coast to be shipped out, but so was the Carrow mansion, wasn’t it? Because of this, James had promised Sirius that he’d carry his two-way mirror on him in case things went south, so that he could call for back up (using Patronuses could have a fatal time lag, after all). James knew that his best friend had shit nerves (as much as he tried to play the distant rogue with the heart of stone) and had probably had the mirror propped up in front of him all day, so it took only one shout of “Sirius Black!” before the other wizard’s face appeared, shouting a quick, “Be there in a minute Prongs, just hold on!” before James even had the chance to explain the situation. The messy-haired wizard gave a huff of exasperation at his bullheaded friend; he was always a little too eager to rush into danger, particularly when it came to defending one of his mates. James had always felt this sense of dread in his stomach over it, like someday Sirius would end up dead because of it.

 

Now, though, James had little time to ponder such morbid thoughts as he nearly dropped the mirror trying to shove it back into his robes; in the moment he lunged for it, his shield fell for just half a second. In dueling, though, a moment was all it took, as he well knew, and he braced for the blow that was sure to come. A spark of nauseating orange shot towards him, the kind of spell whose effects he had no desire to learn because only something truly nasty could emote such a hideous color.

 

Because of his vast knowledge of hexes and their many unpleasant side effects, James felt himself awash with gratitude when Lily drew up a Shield Charm around him powerful enough to bowl over two Death Eaters. “Stay sharp, Potter!” Lily shouted at him exasperatedly, shoving her flying curls out of her face with one hand as she swung around to defend his back. Once again he was struck by how natural she was on the battlefield, a strange, scary sort of beautiful.

 

“Happy to be your damsel in distress any day, Evans!” he shouted back over the noise of explosions (and he knew she was dying to roll her eyes at him, but couldn’t quite do so safely in the middle of a battle). And it was true, he was more than happy for Lily to save the day, not just because she looked dazzling doing it or because she needed the win, but because she _could_ do it, plain and simple. Lily Evans was the most talented witch he had ever met, and there was nothing more he loved than to watch her rub it in those disgusting blood purists’ ugly faces.

 

Unfortunately, those ugly faces seemed to be multiplying, up to eight hooded figures now while Lily and James’s back-up remained nowhere in sight. As much as he loved seeing Lily in action, he realized that soon it wouldn’t matter how powerful the two of them were together, not when they were outnumbered like this. They needed to get out of there, fast. James dug deep inside himself for a moment, finding that pure power in his core that he imagined as holding his store of magic, quite like a battery, and used it to pull up a wall of jagged stone between them and the Death Eaters. “That should confuse the dense fuckers for a few moments,” he said to Lily as he grabbed her hand and pulled her through the forest behind him as he took off at a run, “Enough to give us a head start, at least!”

 

“Where the bloody hell is Sirius?” Lily demanded, a bit out of breath as she raced to keep up with his long strides, “We’re not going to be able to hold them off much longer!”

 

“Hence the running,” James replied, ducking under a low branch at just the right second, “Hopefully Sirius and the rest will magically appear in a few moments and we’ll get out of her and all live happily ever after.”

 

“I’d be fine with just living if I’m being honest,” Lily puffed behind him, “I have pretty low standards at the moment.”

 

“That mean I finally have a chance then?” James shot back at her with a crooked grin, and his world lit up momentarily when she smiled right back.

 

He came to a standstill, though, feeling through one of his Animagus senses that something was off, someone was there. He pulled Lily behind a tree quickly, covering her mouth to keep her from accidentally crying out in surprise and putting one finger in front of his lips to signal silence.

 

The way sunlight filtered through the leaves like a kaleidoscope, the way the pattern of trees ran together so that it felt like your were running through one of those Muggle Fun Houses with its trick mirrors, James knew that for many people being this deep in the woods could be disorienting. He had always wondered if the real reason the Forbidden Forest was forbidden (fantastic beasts aside) was because of how easy it was to get lost in. It had taken years for James to feel truly comfortable there, and even when it had begun to feel like a second home the lads and him still were not able to map it. There was just something about the deep, untouched words that felt eerie, mysterious, dangerous.

 

That feeling was only compounded when someone was trying to kill you.

 

But James’s Animagus form wasn’t a stag for nothing. He felt at home in the woods, felt his most powerful when his lungs were breathing clean air and he was planted on virgin earth. And so it was that the forest amplified his Animagus senses and (although he wasn’t quite sure how it worked, whether it was scent or hearing or just an acute awareness of these individuals in particular) he knew it was safe.

 

“Oi! Lads! ‘S just us!” James called, feeling his tense shoulders visibly relax as he stepped out from behind the tree.

 

“Merlin, mate, we were ready to right off you!” Sirius let out in a loud breath as he emerged from behind a clump of shrubs hidden in the shadows, “Moony just about soiled his trousers he was so scared!”

 

“Oh shove off, Pads,” Remus replied, following Sirius from behind the shrubs. Peter trailed after them, picking at a thick carpet of thistles that had somehow come to cover his burgundy sweater.

 

“What was the hold up?” Lily interjected, hands braced on her knees as she continued to regain her breath (and James resisted the urge to poke fun at her being out of shape like this, really it was too easy with her sometimes).

 

“I couldn’t remember where the apparition point was,” Sirius admitted sheepishly, “So I had Moony set up a Portkey to the beach there-”

 

“Waking me up from my nap, I never get to sleep anymore because of you needy sods,” Remus grumbled in the background, rubbing at the dark circles under his eyes.

 

“But by the time we got there you and your Death Eater buddies were already gone,” Sirius continued, completely ignoring the other boy, “So we had to track you down it the forest. Quite literally.” He said the last part with a roguish grin and a wink, yelping when Remus slapped his warningly on the shoulder.

 

“And I came with as backup!” Peter chimed in suddenly, belatedly, everyone turning in to look at him. He blushed red before continuing to pick at his sweater.

 

“Er, yes, and Wormtail came as backup,” Sirius finished lamely, giving James a look that said _Go along, he needs this_.

 

The three boys did there best to shield Peter from it all, but the truth was he was truly rubbish at it, fighting a war. He had completely mucked up at least three missions now, his clumsiness, watery eyes, and weak spells nearly blowing the whole thing. The other Order members were becoming less and less understanding, some even downright mean about it. Sirius had nearly punched Caradoc Dearborn at the last meeting when he suggested with a sneer that perhaps there should be an entrance exam to get into the Order; James had only just been able to hold him back. The other three Marauders were all just grateful that Peter had pulled guard duty that night and was not around to hear it.

 

The problem was, there was truth to it all. James, Sirius, and Remus were really the ones who had gotten him through Hogwarts, coaching him through all of his classes and dragging him over the finish line of exams at the end of every year.

 

However, they could not coach him through war. The Marauders couldn’t be at every fight, couldn’t be defending him at every corner when his Shield Spell couldn’t stand or his disarming spell didn’t work the way it was meant to. Peter was becoming a liability in battle, and it was agony for the three boys who had always done their best to prop up their friend’s fragile confidence. Eventually it would become too dangerous, and the Order would sideline him. James dreaded what it would do to his already painfully self-conscious friend.

 

So he played along with Sirius, offering Peter a stellar smile as he said, “Brilliant, we can always use another wand. Where’s that Portkey, then? Let’s get out of here before the Death Eaters catch up, yeah?” He turned expectantly towards Sirius.

 

“Pete, you got it right?” Sirius asked.

 

Silence.

 

They were all turned towards Peter now, his eyes as watery as ever as his mouth opened and closed silently and he frantically checked his pockets. “Shitshitshit,” he cursed shakily, “I think I dropped it when I got caught in those briars.”

 

“ _Merlin_ ,” Lily seemed to hiss involuntarily. That pretty much summed it up for the rest of them, it seemed. Remus had one hand covering his face, and Sirius had walked away a few steps, his back turned and his fists clenched. On his part, James was just doing his best to take deep breaths.

 

“Well, that’s okay,” James said finally, “Same plan as before then, right Lils? Get back to the apparition point. At least now we have more wands, like I said, and a head start-”

 

As if on cue, a curse shot over their heads, bark and leaves raining down on them as it burst against a tree.

 

“Right then, same plan as before, just _fucking faster_ ,” James restated, before they all took off at a run, zigzagging in different directions through the trees.

 

 _Fucking hate running_ , James thought resentfully as he raced, _Just one of the million reasons that Quidditch is the best sport ever created…._

* * *

 

 

“Right, we all here now?” Lily asked as Remus finally came running up to ash tree, split in half by a lightning storm some century ago, which served as the Apparition point for this particular path of the Underground Railroad. The rest of them were gathered there, sporting a series of cuts and bruises from battling Death Eaters and various foliage, but still relatively intact. “Wait, where’s James?”

 

“I thought he was with Sirius?” Remus panted, coming up to lean against the ash.

 

“No, remember, Rodolphus Lestrange was cornering us so we took off in different directions, he followed you when you looped back towards the beach-”

 

“But he went back to help you when he heard you and Bellatrix going at it-”

 

“No he didn’t-”

 

“ _Yes he did-_ ”

 

“Guys!” Lily interrupted the two friends. She could feel her heart racing, so fast it hurt as it pounded against her ribcage. But she had to stay calm, stay calm because _fucking shit James was missing and how could she wake up tomorrow if he was gone she couldn’t lose him she-_

“Let’s give him two more minutes to show,” the redheaded witch said, voice much steadier than she felt, “If he’s not here by then, we go after him. Okay?”

 

No one said anything, but Lily took their silence as agreement as they waited, each one of them staring intently at their watches, some even glaring as if angry that time dared to move forward without James. They collectively held their breath, not uttering a word as the final second ticked by.

 

“Okay then,” Lily said, letting out a shaky breath. And she wasn’t sure when it had happened, but the other three boys were looking at her in that way she hadn’t seen in so long, not since she nearly lost her mind over the death of her best friend. They were looking at her like she had all the answers, like she had a plan, like she could keep them safe; they looked at her like a leader.

 

And even though Lily was scared out of her mind because _what if he died before she could tell him what if he never knew_ but somehow the way the boys looked at her with such trust and hope, it restored her faith in herself. Even if her hands were still shaking and her knees felt like they were going to give out, they needed her to be _that_ Lily, the Head Girl, the Order member, the powerful and unshakable witch that had kept them safe on so many missions before.

 

They needed that Lily Evans. So that is what she became.

 

“Okay then,” she repeated, her tone even and calm, “Peter, I want you to try and get back to that briar bush you fell in, try and find the Portkey. We can’t be sure what shape we might find James in, and a quick exit would be best.” She felt the others flinch at her words, but she continued on. “The rest of us, let’s get back down to the beach. If he’s-if they took him with them, that’s where they will be. We can evaluate what we’re up against, make a plan from there.”

 

“I-I don’t know if I’ll be able to find it, the Portkey,” Peter interrupted her before anyone could move, “I’m terrible at finding stuff, and bad at directions, I’m not sure I could even find the bush-”

 

“I’ll come with you, Wormtail,” Sirius said, a look passing between him and Remus, “Two eyes are better than one, right?”

 

“I think it’s four eyes are better than two, but the sentiment’s the same,” Lily said. She looked back and forth between the three boys as some silent conversation seemed to pass between them. She had always been a bit jealous of the Marauders, how close they were, the way they seemed to be able to read each other’s mind, anticipate their every move. Something significant was being said between Remus and Sirius, but she couldn’t take her eyes off Peter. He-there was something off about him. He was twitchy and nervous but that was just Peter, not out of the ordinary except…something else was there, simmering beneath the surface. A flash of resentment hidden behind his watery eyes. But then the short wizard met her eyes and the look was gone, he was back to being the anxious mess he had always been.

 

“So that settles it then,” she continued, “Sirius, you go with Peter, find that Portkey. Meet Remus and I at the beach, and then, well, we’ll bring James home.”

 

No one said anything for a moment, nobody moved. Because the moment they set off, it meant that the risks that were simmering beneath the plan they had made would be set in motion. From the moment they left the suddenly comforting presence of the ash, anything could happen.

 

Lily was the one to break the silence again, because she knew none of the boys in front of her could bear to. “Alright, let’s break then. Peter, Sirius, see you on the other side.” Sirius gave her a mock salute before bounding into the forest, Peter scurrying after him through the underbrush.

 

She turned to Remus then. “Shall we?”

 

* * *

 

They didn’t get there soon enough.

 

Or maybe it was too soon, that they got there before either of them were mentally ready to process the kind of scene that was now set in front of them.

 

It was horrible.

 

A ring of Death Eaters stood on the beach, masked and robed, just like it had been in the Carrow maze and so many encounters before that, a crowd circling a theater.

 

And James Potter was the main event.

 

Two thuggish Death Eaters held his arms, and though once it may have been to restrain him, now they seemed to be the only thing holding him up. His face was bruised, cracked, and bleeding, his spectacles shattered at his feet long ago. Even from where she was hiding behind a series of massive staggered rock fragments on the beach, Lily could see how glassy his eyes were, barely conscious. A burly masked figure stood in front of him, his sleeves rolled up and knuckles scuffed and covered in what she was sure was James’s blood.

 

And holding court over the whole event was Lord Voldemort.

 

“However barbaric Muggle fighting is, I must admit there is some beauty to it,” the Dark wizard was saying as he glided inside the circle. He had that sadistic smile on his face, was _enjoying_ this, the way James groaned in pain as the burly Death Eater threw a punch that landed in his stomach with a sickening _thud_. “With wizard duels, one could have the fight of a lifetime and hardly walk away with a mark,” Voldemort continued, coming face-to-face with James now. There was something so wrong about seeing them together, such opposites. James radiated life, even when only partially conscious, and he had that rage of righteous justice that rolled off him like a pulse. Voldemort, though, with his pale, snakelike visage and eerie red eyes, looked like death incarnate.

 

Voldemort placed his hand on the side of James’s face, long fingers tracing the trickle of blood coming from a split on his temple, and at the touch a deep shiver passed down Lily’s spine. _Wrong wrong wrong_ her whole being seemed to scream out. “There’s something striking, some carnal beauty about it,” Voldemort said, his skeletal hand pulled back now as he examined the glistening red that coated his fingers, “The blood.” He brought his blood-stained fingers to his lips, as if to taste it. Lily felt like she was going to be sick.

 

“ _Fuck_ , where’s Sirius?” she heard Remus mutter under his breath, “We have to get James away from this sick fuck, Merlin.” Lily grabbed his hand, squeezing it because that was all she could think to do.

 

“How does it feel, James Potter?” Voldemort’s voice boomed again, “To know that you have been abandoned by your friends?”

 

It was at that moment that Sirius appeared, holding a dirty sock in a handkerchief, careful not to let it touch his skin.

 

“Ready to get Prongs out of here?” the dark-haired wizard asked with a roguish grin (although it faltered, just the tiniest bit when he caught sight of James. But he held it, that look, because it was the way he had always rebelled, with a joke and a smile in the face of evil)

 

“Merlin, what is that?” Lily coughed when the apparently dirty sock got too close to her face.

 

“That, my dear, is our way out,” Sirius replied with another grin (forced, but still there), “I was a bit rushed when I made the Portkey and all, so I just grabbed the closest thing to me.”

 

“Disgusting,” Lily muttered again, although she wasn’t sure if she meant the sock anymore, or the way the burly Death Eater (who she was pretty sure now was either Crabbe or Goyle, she could never really tell them apart) smashed his fist across James’s already swollen face. She was almost sure a tooth had fallen out.

 

“No, they won’t be coming back for you,” Voldemort was saying again, “Our scouts saw them make it to the Apparition Point you and the Order had set up. They have left you here, with me.”

 

Sirius would have jumped out from behind the rocks then if Remus’s surprisingly quick reflexes hadn’t pulled him back down. “Okay, I can’t take this, let’s go, I’m sure I could take at least three of them so that leaves only eight for the rest of you, not counting old Voldy of course-”

 

“Sirius, we _can’t_ ,” Lily said, and she saw in his face now what James must have seen in hers when she saw Benjy captured in that maze, understood now why he had done what he had done. There was selfless sacrifice, and then there was senseless sacrifice. If she had jumped into the center of the maze to save Benjy, well, she stood no chance. That would have been senseless.

 

But it was different today. Lily was stronger, tougher, harder, and she _knew_ she could get James out of there. She just had to think. She needed a distraction.

 

And then it was given to her.

 

“Now, as amusing of a show as this Muggle-style fighting has been, there is someone else who has laid claim to you,” Voldemort’s voice boomed again, gloating like the host of some sick game show, “Severus, step forward.”

 

Lily’s heart stopped as a dark figure stepped forward, masked and robed like all the others but the bend of his shoulders and the way his stringy hair cut unevenly at his shoulders, well, he was unmistakable to her.

 

“I have heard long stories of all the ways you tormented poor Severus here in school. Why, your bullying may very well have been the catalyst that landed him here by my side.” Lily saw James, even with his brain addled by the hits and his body bruised and beaten, stiffen at those words. “Yes, even you pure-hearted Gryffindors are capable of evil at times,” Voldemort drawled. “Now, in a fair fight I can only begin to speculate on who would win.” Some of the Death Eaters chuckled at this, nudging each other at what had to be a joke at Snape’s expense, and Lily saw the greasy-haired wizards shoulders slump only further.

 

( _The way his body seemed to cave in after his father’s beatings, the way he walked in shame after every prank the Marauders pulled, the way that hurt and wallowing sadness had turned into a burning resentment, and then hatred…)_

 

Lily was pulled from the memories of who Snape had been, though, and reminded of the man he was _now_ as Voldemort continued. “A fair fight does not matter now, though,” the snakelike wizard said, “Because fair does not matter in war. Severus here had proven himself loyal, has _chosen the right side_. And as such, he has been granted certain _privileges_.” The smile that broke across Voldemort’s face now, the pure joy reflected in his blood-red eyes, made Lily feel lost for a moment, made her feel like _all_ was lost when such pure evil walked the earth.

 

She was spurred into action, though, at the screams that erupted from James’s split lips as Severus Snape ( _her best friend, how had such a kind boy turned into a monster like this_ ) shouted a single word.

 

“ _Crucio!_ ”

 

Lily turned back to the other three boys, all of whom were watching in agony as James crumpled to the ground. “I have it,” she told them hurriedly, breathlessly, because they had to move fast ( _she couldn’t listen to that scream for one more second_ ), “Just, wait for my signal, I think I have a distraction. Spread out around the Death Eater’s circle. When you see it, when you see the signal, just start making things explode and make a run towards James. As soon as we’re all together, we Portkey out. Okay?”

 

Sirius and Peter nodded, running right off, but Remus hesitated for a moment. “Lily,” he said hesitantly, “You’re not going to try…?”

 

“I can do it, Remus,” she told him, surprising herself with how certain she was, “For James, I can do it. I owe him my life and-and so much more. I know it will work this time.”

 

The tired wizard nodded, like he understood. And maybe he did, on some level. The kind of loyalty that James inspired in others, well, she hadn’t seen the likes of it ever before. Had never _felt_ anything like it before. All of the, the Marauders and Lily and probably just about everyone in the Order too, would give their lives for James without a second thought.

 

And Lily, well, she would give her entire heart.

 

So it was that, after the three other boys were in place, as Severus Snape raised him wand on James Potter once again, channeling all of the hurt and hatred centered into a single Unforgivable word, Lily Evans was able to raise her own wand a whisper a short incantation.

 

 _Cor tutum_.

 

And the spell, that shot of red light barreling towards the limp figure laying on the sand, merely absorbed into his body as Lily’s ward settled on him like an invisible blanket.

 

Everything was silent for a moment.

 

Snape looked at his wand uncertainly for a moment. “ _Crucio_!” he shouted again, brandishing his wand furiously. Nothing. “ _Crucio?_ ” he tried uncertainly, this time like a question.

 

Once again, nothing.

 

The circle of Death Eaters were muttering amongst themselves, nudging each other as they whispered and chuckled at Snape’s expense.

 

“Master,” the greasy-haired wizard said, turning to Voldemort now, “Master, I don’t know what is happening! My wand, it must be defective or something, this has never happened to me before!”

 

“Now, Severus, perhaps you simply don’t hold as much of a grudge as you thought,” Voldemort replied, turning on the huddled figure of James, “Here, watch me. _Crucio!_ ”

 

Nothing.

 

“What in Merlin’s beard-” Voldemort cursed, stalking away from James as he rounded on Severus, “What did you do, boy? This is your fault-”

 

* * *

 

There was sand everywhere, and James couldn’t understand why.

 

There had been pain, so much of it that he felt like his bones were turning into molten lava inside him, setting the paths of his blood on fire. And then it had stopped and he had been so thankful, even though his addled brain kept on telling him to wait, more was coming, that _word_ meant more was coming.

 

But no pain came.

 

Instead the world exploded into a storm of sand, specks of it digging into the cuts that criss-crossed his body, whirling around James is such a dizzying fashion that even if James thought his body could stand he would never have been able to move through it. He was trapped, doomed, and even though he never would have believe whoever that wizard was, he couldn’t quite remember at this moment, would never have believed that his friends, that _she_ would abandon him, well, they weren’t here now were they? And there was too much sand and his body just _hurt_ and he thought he might be choking on his own blood-

 

And then there were hands pulling at his through the storm, tugging at him and turning him, and _no this was so much worse than the sand, he wanted to go back-_

He landed with a thud in a puddle of water, and it smelled foul but it was better than the sand, and it felt cool against his burning skin and-

 

“James, love, it’s going to be okay,” a voice trickled down to him, coating him in a comforting kind of warmth that was so different from the pain that had burned through him only moments ago. He managed to open his eyes just the tiniest bit, and a glowing girl leaned over him, the emerald orbs of her eyes seeming to come from another planet.

 

“James, just stay with me okay?”

 

She was crying, he felt the warms drops of her tears fall onto his cheeks. And he wanted to smile or make a joke or _anything_ because someone that pretty should never be crying.

 

“James, you said you would stay with me. Always, you said, right? Just stay away, James, stay with me, I lo-”


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A beginning of Jilytober treat for all of my lovely readers, because I love you so! This chapter was what I've been waiting for since the beginning of this story, the scene that really spurred me on to write in the first place. I hope you all enjoy it! As always, thank you for all who reviewed, if only you guys could see my face when I open up each notification, you all give so much to me with every word!

23.

 

Everything looked blurry when James woke up.

 

At first this set off alarm bells: he didn’t recognize the room he was in, but it had that distinct hospital smell, disinfectant and suffering mixed together to create an irreproducible pungent odor. He couldn’t quite remember how he got there, and his lack of memories along with the blurred vision made him think that perhaps he had sustained some sort of head injury. He felt a moment of panic, his chest tightening up in that way it does when you suddenly realize that you’ve lost control over a portion of your life. He reached for the bedside table, hand blindly scuffling against the rough wood as he searched for his wand to give him some sort of control over his situation back, knocking over a water glass and a pair of spectacles in the process-

 

_Spectacles._

 

James was positive now that he must have gotten hit in the head, and hard, for him to forget even momentarily that he wore glasses, which had been a fixture in his life since he was four (yes, that young, his parents had worked very hard to boost his confidence after that and James had only just begun to realize the effect that had on the size of his ego later in life). Sheepishly he searched the ground with his hand, clamping over the fallen spectacles and bringing them to rest balanced on his nose once again.

 

“Forgot about your glasses again, Prongs?”

 

Having already been leaning halfway out of the bed to get his glasses, James toppled to the ground with the shock of hearing another voice in what he thought was an empty room.

 

“Merlin, Padfoot, you nearly gave me a heart attack!” James shouted, clutching a hand to his bare chest (apparently he was only wearing his boxers, he _really_ needed to figure out what had happened), “And what do you mean by _again_?”

 

“It’s a James Potter post-injury classic,” Sirius called from across the room, leaning back in one of the rickety chairs that were set up in all of the Hospital Wing rooms for visiting family (so _that’s_ where he was). “Every time you got conked in the head during Quidditch or had blood loss or some other shite during Auror training and passed out, you always wake up and forget that you wear glasses for a good five minutes. The look on your face, mate,” he said with a gleeful grin, “It’s priceless. One time you even started crying and asked me if you’d gone blind. I make it a point to be here whenever you wake up after an injury, one of the few pleasures in my life.”

 

“Glad to know you care, Pads,” James replied sourly as he held a hand up to his throbbing head, deciding that he was perfectly content to remain on the floor where he was sprawled and not move ever again because _fucking hell_ it felt like his body had been run through a meat grinder, everything hurt. “Now, since you’ve got your shits and giggles in, would you mind telling me what the hell happened?’

 

Sirius’s face sobered then, creases lining his forehead that told James he had probably been sitting by his bedside for a long, long time, and not for the comedic value. “Shit, Prongs, it was nasty. You and Evans were on a mission, right, and a bunch of bloody Death Eaters showed up. You called me in for back-up, and I Portkeyed in with Remus and Peter.” He pulled out a cigarette and lit it with his wand, puffing at it as if that was it, that was the end of the story.

 

“So we fought them off,” James supplied impatiently, “Right? Then why aren’t you in a bed too? Not that I’m not happy to see you uninjured but, well, we usually go down swinging together, yeah?”

 

“It wasn’t like that,” Sirius sighed, taking another long drag of the cig, “There were just too many of them for the five of us so we ran, tried to get to the Apparition Point to get out of there. But we got separated, and they nabbed you, and when we found you…” He gestured at James vaguely, and the messy-haired wizard knew what he meant. He had a feeling that if he looked in a mirror, well, he was sure he looked nearly as good as he felt right about now.

 

“So then how did you-we-get out?” James asked uncertainly.

 

Sirius faced seemed to light up then. “T _hat’s_ the part that was just batshit insane. You know how Evans has been working manically on that ward of hers? Well, I suppose it paid off. Sn-one of the Death Eaters was using the Cruciatus Curse-yeah, sorry mate, you’ll be sore for a couple of days, believe me-and Evans threw her ward around you and it _fucking blocked it_. An Unforgivable! Mad, completely mad, she’s some sort of genius she is, thousands of years of magic and no one’s done that before. Right, anyways, all of the Death Eaters and Voldemort-yeah, he was there too, she blocked a Crucio from _Voldemort_ , really mate if you don’t marry her I will-anyways, all of them just stood around confused for a bit, couldn’t understand why their wands had seemed to stop working all of a sudden. And then the four of us just started blowing shit up and ran in and grabbed you and were able to get out of there.”

 

Some of this was beginning to sound familiar now. “When we apparated or Portkeyed back or whatever, did we land in water?” James asked, screwing up his features as he tried to pull back the memory, “For some reason I remember water.”

 

“Yeah, it rained earlier in the day so we landed in a puddle in the alleyway out back,” Sirius said cheerily, seemingly back to his usual self now that he wasn’t discussing the near-death of his best friend, “Cheers to that.”

 

“Oh shit,” James breathed, a single memory becoming suddenly clear, “ _Holy fucking shit_. Either I’m back to my Lily-Evans-wishful-dreaming phase, or… _fuck_ , I can’t even say it. Did she tell me she loves me?”

 

“She did, but it may have been one of those death-bed white lie things, you looked like a goner- _hey!_ ” Sirius shouted as a pillow whipped into his face.

 

“Why the hell didn’t you lead with that?!” James shouted back (trying to ignore the way ever molecule of his being felt like it was going to spontaneously explode), “You’re not fucking with me, are you?”

 

“For once, my dear James, I am living up to my name,” his friend replied grandly (as if they had not told that same joke a million times before), “But really, she didn’t leave your side for one second until about two hours ago, and you’d been out for thirty-six hours. Moony and I only got her to go to bed when we spiked her coffee with a Sleep Serum. She won’t be up for another six hours and let me tell you, she’s going to be pissed she missed you waking up.” His face softened for a moment. “I think it’s the real deal this time, mate.”

 

“ _BLOODY HELL!_ ” came and explosion from James, “You have _got_ to be fucking kidding me!”

 

Sirius nearly fell out of his precariously-angled chair. “Not the reaction I was expecting,” he replied with a confused expression as he righted himself.

 

“Ten years I waited, Sirius,” James ranted, up on his feet now as he paced back and forth across the room (painfully, but he was seeing red at the moment anyways so he didn’t really notice), “ _Ten fucking years_ I waited for this moment, and she just think she can say it first? Just like that? Not fucking likely!”

 

“Are you really serious right now?” Sirius tried to interrupt his friends ravings.

 

James ignored him as he threw his hands up in the air. “I’ve probably had this planned since third year _at least_!” He turned to Sirius now, “Pads, do you think she knows that I heard? Or did I pass out early enough?”

 

“Hell, I don’t know-”

 

“Padfoot! This is _life or death_!”

 

“No James, life or death was you thirty-six hours ago when you were literally about to die,” Sirius said in reply to his friends dramatics, “But yeah, I don’t think she knows you heard. Why does that matter?”

 

James gave his friend a devilish grin. “Padfoot, let Moony and Wormtail know to begin preparations for plan three-hundred twenty-six.”

 

“ _Now?_ Prongs, you can barely walk-”

 

“And don’t tell Lily I’m awake until it’s ready or she’ll try to tell me she loves me again and I can’t have that-”

 

“Oh yes, because the girl of your dreams professing her love to you is _such_ an inconvenience-”

 

“I won’t let her steal this moment!”

 

“Love’s not a competition, James!”

 

They both paused in their argument to stare at each other agape.

 

“Sirius,” James said cautiously, “Sirius, are you sure you’re feeling okay? Did you really just say that?”

 

“The stress of your near-death experience must have gotten to me more than I thought,” he replied somberly, his voice nearly choking up, “I-I can’t believe I would think for even a second that not everything’s a competition.”

 

“Bring it in, mate,” James told him, opening his arms wide, and Sirius dramatically rushed into them, throwing himself on his friend and pretending to wheeze with sobs.

 

“I-I’ll n-never say it again!”

 

“I know you won’t,” James replied soothingly, petting his friend’s hair.

 

They broke apart then, both grinning their trademark Marauders grin. Sometimes it was used to signal mischief afoot, to maybe seduce or a girl, or even just to let each other know they are in on the joke. Today, though, it was used to mask the pain of their brotherhood almost being broken apart, and to share in their relief that James Potter was indeed alive and breathing. It was used to say that everything was fine, at least for now.

 

“You’ll let Moony know, then?” James asked, “And Peter?”

 

“On my way now,” Sirius said, already halfway out the door, “We should be ready before Lils wakes up, but if she comes into your room before then just play dead, okay?” He winced for a second at the poorly timed joke, but James just roared with laughter.

 

“Thanks, mate,” James told him sincerely, “You’ve definitely got dibs on best man.”

 

“Oh, Prongs,” Sirius laughed on his way out, “I’ve had dibs for years.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“James, where are you taking me? You really shouldn’t be out of bed you know, I don’t care if Mary said you were fine to go, she’ll say anything if you bring her those chocolate oranges and I’m almost positive I saw Remus handing some off to her-”

 

“Merlin, Lily, stop babbling, you’re ruining the moment,” James complained (although she could tell by the way he said it that he was smiling).

 

The reason she couldn’t _see_ the smile was because for some unexplained purpose, the Marauders had decided to blindfold her and push her unceremoniously out of the Safe House. She had been about to lay waste to just about the entire building (because _really_ , you shouldn’t jump people in the middle of a war!) when a hand caught hers. James didn’t need to speak a single word for Lily to know it was him.

 

However, ever since he had started dragging her by said hand down the road in the middle of the night Lily had been trying to ply him for information about what the hell was going on.

 

“Hold tight now,” he said, and she felt the familiar warmth of his arms wrapping around her. She felt that strange tugging at her belly-button, and then with a small pop they apparated away.

 

The second they reappeared, Lily’s hands went to her blindfold, trying to yank it off because _she knew the Marauders were into dramatics but what this really necessary?_

 

“Not yet, not yet, not yet!” James cried, clamping on to her hands to stop her from ripping off what she was beginning to suspect was one of the Marauders’ old school ties.

 

“What was the point of the whole blind walk if you were just going to apparate us to a whole new location anyways?” Lily grumbled, still a confused mess over everything that was happening. Not even forty-eight hours ago she had watched James almost die, and had nearly professed her love to him, and now she was being dragged to Merlin-knows-where and she could _tell_ that he was still limping-

 

“I’ll only ever get one to chance to surprise you like this,” James interrupted her thought, and she knew by the way his body moved that he was running a hand through his hair, that familiar nervous tick, “I didn’t want to cock it up.”

 

Given Lily’s temperament, and particularly her temperament around James Potter, she would normally take a vague answer like this and run with it, using it to incite some sort of argument or begin some diatribe. She did not handle surprises well, had always been the type of kid to unwrap her gifts before Christmas morning (before carefully rewrapping them) so she would know what she was receiving and would be able to give the appropriate reactions. She liked to be prepared, to have a set of expectations so that she would never be overwhelmed or let down. Or, more importantly, let other people down. She was a control freak, and she liked it that way.

 

But Lily’s heart caught at the sincerity ( _and nervousness, Merlin he was adorable_ ) behind the words, and she could hardly breathe let alone spout off a six-point argument as to why James should get back to the Hospital Wing before she blew an aneurysm.

 

So, for the first time in the history of James Potter shenanigans, Lily Evans stayed perfectly silent.

 

“Okay,” James said, shuffling back over to her and slightly out of breath (she realized that while she had been caught in contemplation he must have been running around doing some of his mad Marauders things). She felt his fingers playing at the knot holding back the blindfold. “Ready?”

 

Lily really meant to let the moment play itself out, but she suddenly couldn’t help but interject, “You know if this is some dumb Marauder prank I’m going to kill you, right? And that would really be a waste of all the time I spent nursing you back to health in the first place.”

 

“Just wait,” he murmured, bending to whisper in her ear, “Here, look.” The blindfold dropped.

 

And Lily felt her heart stop.

 

They were standing on the ground of the castle on the hill, Inverness Castle, facing the entrance of it as moonlight played against its stone façade. A thousand, maybe a million lights hovered in the air around them, as if the stars had descended to the Earth for her to dance among. They shifted and glimmered as they moved through them, walking up the gravel path to the castle doors. She caught one of the glittering lights in her hand, and it emitted a warm glow like a firefly as it danced across her palm.

 

“Oh James,” she whispered, mesmerized by the world he had created just for her, “It’s beautiful.”

 

When he said nothing in reply, she broke her gaze from the starlights to look at him. His hazel eyes were trained on her, a goofy smile on his face that gave her butterflies ( _because while she had been watching the stars, he had been watching her…)_. When their eyes met, his grin only widened more, his eyes lighting up like a child’s on Christmas morning.

 

“C’mon, Lils!” he called to her, tugging at her hand as he tried to race ahead, “I have so much more to show you!”

 

Lily Evans had a million questions to ask (mostly _what, why, when_ , and _how?!?_ ), but for the moment she just giggled like a child herself a raced after him, allowing herself to be wooed by James Potter for the very first time.

 

* * *

 

Together they burst through the front doors of the castle, and the inside was just as breathtaking as it was out, albeit in a very different manner. Firelight bloomed from the many fireplaces scattered around the Entrance Hall, soaking the intricately carved wooden paneling of the walls in a warm golden glow. Rich and heavy brocade fabrics fell around the room in drapes and chairs, even an odd tapestry here and there. Ancient books and historical artifacts were scattered casually around the room the way her Great-Aunt Myrtle had displayed her cat figurine collection (i.e. covering every flat service available.) It was all the glory and grandeur of a museum, but framed in what felt like the sweet comforts of home, as it reminded her so much of Hogwarts. Merlin, Lily could have spent years examining just the one room…

 

But it was not meant to be, because James Potter was not some slow-going museum patron. “Here, take off your shoes, the wooden floors are perfect for sliding, it’ll be so much more fun!” he called, as he wrenched off his own shoes.

 

Before she could even bend to begin untying them he was on his knees tugging them off her feet, nearly sending her toppling. “Merlin, James, I can do it myself!,” she laughed as she kicked her second shoe off, “I’m not a child!”

 

But maybe it was too early to say that, for they spent the rest of the evening running through the castle in their socks, exploring the forbidden rooms and sliding across immeasurably historic floors. Lily’s heart felt lighter than it had in years as their laughter bounced through the hallways and her hand rested in his, just as it was meant to be.

 

As they adventured on, the pair of them came to a great chamber, with tall vaulted ceiling accentuated by intricately ornamented wooden arches. Lily came to a standstill, James nearly ramming right into her, as she stared into what she determined had to be the ballroom. There was a humble sort of beauty about it, small by most castle standards, but somehow brought to life by the way the wooden floors were a little but scuffed and worn and the way the fire blazing in the hearth brought out that warm glow. Lily could just picture it, all of the happy occasions that must have taken place in this room, balls and weddings filled with smiling couples dancing together, the ones who must have scuffed up those beautifully polished floors.

 

She thought it was perfect.

 

“I knew you’d like it,” James said with a smile, pulling her farther into the room as he flicked his wand at a gramophone that she hadn’t noticed before, hidden in one of the shadows in the corner.

 

“ _I could have danced all night…_ ” the gentle voice of Audrey Hepburn crooned, and Lily’s heart felt lighter than air.

 

“James, you didn’t,” she laughed as he began to swing her around, sliding clumsily across the floor. This song, she had cried the first time she heard it, before she had even seen the movie. It was off of a soundtrack record she’d gotten for two pence at a rummage sale. There was something about it, so hopeful just as first loved bloomed, it had made her heart yearn for a kind of love that she had hardly even understood at the time. “How did you know?”

 

“I didn’t,” he replied with that unmistakable crooked grin of his, “But Remus did and, well, I’m not above bribes.” He effortlessly twirled her around, her socks aiding the spin that ended dramatically as James dipped her so far she thought for sure that she was going to fall.

 

“Merlin, where did you learn to dance like that?” Lily asked breathlessly as James lifted her back up, flush against his chest.

 

He groaned. “You are going to absolutely hate me for this,” he told her, “But, eurgh, I’m nauseous just saying it. I took dance lessons, all the purebloods did, for, you know, balls and such.”

 

Lily looked at him disbelievingly for a moment, waiting for the punch line. When’s James continued to stare at her uncertainly, self-consciously even, she realized it was no joke.

 

And she burst into laughter.

 

“Oh, I feel like my sides are going to split,” she gasped as her giggles began to die down, “You can’t be serious? This is absolutely divine, imagine Crabbe and Goyle during dance lessons! You have officially made my night, Potter, this is going to keep me going for a _very_ long time.”

 

“I’m glad my childhood trauma is amusing to you,” he grumbled back, although when she poked him teasingly in his side he grinned again.

 

The records switched to a slower tempo, soft classical music that had them swaying in the way that couples did when they came to the part of the evening when they absolutely could not stand to be apart. Lily’s hands were around James’s neck, and his hands rested on her hips.

 

And she felt content, that deep-rooted feeling of everything being right in the world, the feeling that everything would be alright, even the war, as long as James’s arms were still around her.

 

But, Lily was never one to let things lie, and her curiosity had been put off too long.

 

“So what…what is this all about, James?” she asked teasingly, “Not even forty-eight hours after almost dying, and you’re already out breaking into castles? Isn’t that a bit much, even for you?”

 

To her surprise he began to blush, a deep radish-red that she didn’t think she had ever seen on the confident young man before. It was nothing short of adorable, in Lily’s eyes at least. “I just, well,” he started uncertainly, nervously, “Remember way back when we would pretend to be Bill Elvendork and Candi so we could get along?”

 

“Oh don’t remind me,” Lily groaned, hiding her face in his chest to hide her own blush, “I am still deeply ashamed by that, truly, it haunts me.”

 

“Well, I’m not. Maybe about the name, sure, I will probably hold that against you ‘til the day I die – too soon, too soon, you’re right. But anyways, that was probably the first time I got to talk to you, right? Not perfect little Head Girl Lily Evans who hated me because I was a narcissistic little shit, the _real_ you, who is just as messy and fucked up as the rest of us,” he said with a grin. “Anyways, one of the times when we were talking like that I asked you if you could break into any place where would you want to go, and you told me this castle, Inverness Castle. So, to repay you for saving my life, I decided to grant you that wish.”

 

“I can’t believe you remembered that,” Lily said, that same light feeling bubbling up inside her, making her brain fuzzy and her cheeks warm at the same time.

 

“I remember everything you say,” he replied, and it was the off-handed way he said it, as if it was as easy as breathing, that’s what got her.

 

“Oh James,” she sighed, looking into his ever-changing hazel eyes as she was overwhelmed by everything he was, everything he was to _her_ , that outpouring of pure _feeling_ that she couldn’t hold back any longer, “I-”

 

A hand clamped over her mouth.

 

“Don’t you even dare,” he said, his eyes suddenly stormy as he frowned down at her, “I waited ten years for this, thank you very much, I am _not_ going to let you spoil this for me! _I_ get to say it first!”

 

Lily ripped his hand away from her mouth. “James, you can’t just call dibs on this or something,” she argued heatedly (somehow loving him even more for the way he pouted at her right then), “It’s not some sort of competition!”

 

The last sentence, however, from drowned out by James loudly shouting over her, “ _DIBS!_ See! I called it!”

 

They were in a familiar position now, facing each other with their arms crossed as they stared the other down.

 

“Now really, it’s not even fair for you to say _ten years_ , that’s a complete exaggeration. You weren’t in love with me our first year!” Lily began, laying out the winning argument she was hastily crafting in her mind. (Because between them, well, it always _was_ a competition, and dammit she was going to _win_.)

 

“You know very well it was love at first sight!” James argued back just as passionately, “I’m pretty sure I wrote a sonnet to that effect in fourth year!” He paused suddenly, giving her that sheepish smile of his that had always gotten him off the hook, “Sorry about that, by the way, it was really terrible.”

 

“Your poured pumpkin juice down my robes during breakfast on the _second fucking day_ , that was not love!” she shouted back, before adding more sweetly in reply, “And I thought the sonnet was lovely, dear, you did the best you could, it’s a difficult format.”

 

“Either way,” James shot back, eyes on the prize once again (and his _passion_ , well, she’d always found it _quite_ irresistible), “I have suffered for our love far longer than you!”

 

“Oh yes, you were suffering _terribly_ shuttling all of those girls in and out of your dorms over the years,” Lily said with a roll of her eyes (not that she believed a word she way saying, but she was never above playing dirty when it came to James), “And anyways, what if I was in love with you the whole time, too?”

 

“So it worked!” James exclaimed loudly, “All the wooing and gestures, I just knew it! Good Merlin, I can’t wait to tell the lads, I told them for _years_ you were just sexually repressed and afraid to admit it-”

 

“Hey!” she interrupted him, “That was for arguments sake only! I’m just saying, we can’t really know for sure when it happened, so no dibs!”

 

There was silence.

 

“Well, we have to figure out some other way to decide who gets to say it first,” James reasoned, “We can’t just shout it at each other at the same time, you know, wouldn’t be terribly romantic.”

 

“Oh yes, because we’ve done a great job at preserving the mood,” Lily replied sarcastically (although there were still butterflies bouncing around in her stomach, she couldn’t deny that).

 

“Oh shut it, Evans, we all know that arguing is like foreplay for you,” he shot back with a roguish grin.

 

Lily stuck out her tongue at him but said, “Alright then, what do you propose?”

 

A minute later they were facing each other, both wielding a clenched fist. “On three, then?” James said, “Okay. Rock, paper, scissors, SHOOT!”

 

Lily’s fist remained clenched in a rock, while James’s was flat as paper.

 

“HA!” he shouted, punching a fist into the air triumphantly and jumping in a circle, “I won! In your face!” He ran back from his victory dance over to her, shouting, “Lily Marie Evans, I love you!”

 

“I love you too, you big prat,” Lily replied, not able to hold onto her grudge as she swooped in for a kiss.

* * *

 

 

It was lucky that James had scouted out the castle ahead of time, because he knew just where the closest bedroom was as they began to shed clothes in a frenzy, desperate to have nothing in between them anymore now that those three unspoken words were no longer keeping them apart. They stumbled down the corridor, trailing kisses down lips, cheeks, necks as they went, barely making it to the bed before they came crashing together.

 

The other times they had made love, Lily and James had been desperate to capture every moment in their memory, afraid to blink lest they miss something. They would not forget a single kiss, a gasp, the feeling that built up and the came together again and again. They had tried to memorize every second they were together.

 

This time was different.

 

They did not have to memorize each other’s bodies. They did not have to remember each kiss. They were not afraid to let a moment pass by.

 

Because now they knew there would be many more to come.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, friends! Thank you as always for the lovely reviews, I have had a tough couple of weeks between student teaching (ugh) and family drama (double ugh) and your comments always help to cheer me up. This chapter is a bit shorter than normal, but I kind of see it as the the end to what I view as Part One of this story (and I have to laugh at that because I originally thought this fic was going to be 25 chapters total. Um, no.) I am excited to see where the upcoming plot line leads! Anyways, hope you enjoy the chapter and let me know what you think!

24.

 

“So really, you have to tell me. How did you do it all?”

Lily was laying on her stomach, a thin white sheet barely covering her creamy skin as James traced lazy circles across her back. They had been talking for a good two hours now (with plenty of, well, _other things_ in between), trying to sort out the mess that they’d made between themselves since the very first day they had met. They were nearly settled now (both had felt the urge to hit their heads against the wall more than once because _really_ , weren’t they the top of their class? How could they both be so dense?), but there was still that niggling question that Lily just couldn’t let go. 

“I told you, love,” James replied, swooping in for a kiss on the tip of her nose, such a sweet and innocent gesture that it made Lily blush, “Marauders’ secret. If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”

He was smiling that cocky smile of his, the kind he’d use in school when she just _knew_ he was behind whatever mess she was stuck cleaning up but had no way to prove it and _dammit_ it just steamed her. She narrowed her eyes as she drew up her best Prefect glare (a bit rusty, more than likely, but she hoped it would do). “But this is the _Queen’s_ palace, James, you really can’t just waltz in here-” she began haughtily. 

“But I did, didn’t I?” he replied again with _that_ grin, and now that Lily was finally being honest with herself she realized half of that twisting feeling in her gut was sexual frustration (and so _that’s_ what she’d been missing out on all those years). But she couldn’t let this one go, it was a question of national security after all (really, wizardry in general was a national security problem, she would have to ponder that one later), and Lily had always had a soft spot for the royals, there was something about them that she’d always trusted… 

“Oh, that reminds me,” James interjected, interrupting her rambling thoughts, “Can you help me remember to write a thank you note? Or actually, probably a ‘sorry-for-intruding-but-I-promise-I-didn’t-break-anything-this-time’ note would be more apt, easier to ask for forgiveness than permission and all that rubbish…” 

“I’m sorry, but a note to whom?” Lily asked, once again unable to resist following her curiosity. 

“Well, the queen of course,” James replied, confused (as if what he was saying made _any_ sort of sense), “Like you said, this is _her_ palace. It would be a bit rude for me to borrow it and not say thanks and/or sorry.” 

“How on earth do you expect to get a note to the queen?” the redhead asked dubiously, “And on top of that, why would you tell her that you broke the law? And, _Merlin_ James, how do expect to explain _how_ you did it?” She knew that James didn’t know a whole lot about Muggles, but this was pretty basic non-disclosure law, after all. 

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” James said with a wave of his hand, “She’s used to me mucking around in her castles, she’ll just be relieved to know that I didn’t set anything on fire this time. Now _that_ took a bit of explaining. I was grounded for nearly a month.” 

Lily was sure she looked like a fish now, her mouth opening and closing while she silently grasped for words. “James,” she asked slowly, so as not to allow room for any misunderstandings, “Are you telling me that you know the Queen of England? Like, personally?” 

“Oh yeah, she and mum were close,” he said with a casual smile, “Like how the Minister of Magic always deals with the Muggle Prime Minister? Well, before there was an MP, the Muggle Royal family only wanted to deal with wizarding royalty. But, the closest thing we’ve got to that are the old pureblood families, and most of them wouldn’t touch a Muggle with a ten foot pole. The Woodvilles, though, one of the ancient families, were always a bit eccentric and never really minded them, so they were elected to be the wizarding representatives in the Muggle world. That’s my mums family, before she married my dad of course. She inherited the role when her mother passed, and, well, my mum was a bit of a social butterfly.” He shrugged casually (as if _any_ part of this conversation was casual, “She became good friends with all the royals over time. Used to take me with her sometimes when she went to visit, couldn’t leave me alone at home of course, I’d have burned the whole place done in five minutes flat.” 

“Of course,” Lily said, a grumble in her voice, “ _Of fucking course_ you know the bloody Queen of England. I really hate you sometimes, Potter, you know that?”

James only chuckled and did that thing again, the one where he kissed her on the nose. He grinned at her, so much happiness packed into it that it made Lily dizzy, and said, “Nah, you don’t. You love me.” 

She sighed, but it was a happy sigh, the one where there is too much good built up in your lungs and you have to exhale some of it just to stay safe. She turned on her side so she could look straight into his sparkling hazel eyes as she said with a soft smile, “I suppose I do.”

 

* * *

  

Lily was going to kill them. Yes, she was going to have to kill them all.

Upon realizing that both she and James had to be on duty at some point tomorrow (and that the guards that James and the other Marauders had Confunded would come wandering back at some point) they decided they probably couldn’t spend the rest of their life in bed the way that they both dearly wished they could. So, they gathered their clothes that had been scattered in a haphazard path leading to the ballroom (Lily apologizing under her breath to Her Majesty every couple of steps for desecrating her beautiful castle) before following the castle path back down the hill to town. Walking hand-in-hand, Lily and James greeted the sunrise together. Everything seemed perfect. 

That was where the romance ended.

For, just as they entered the pub, there was a loud explosion. 

“What the hell?!” Lily shrieked as fireworks erupted, mini dragons sparkling their way down the dusty bar and nearly blinding her. Little pinwheels twirled their way through the air, and there was this sound like people were clapping and she still couldn’t see right after that damn explosion and _what the hell was happening_?

She hadn’t realized she had drawn her wand in defense until a laughing James grabbed her hand and lowered it. “Claws away, Lils, it’s just our idiotic mates,” he said, and she could hear the grin in his voice. And she relaxed, but only slightly, because if it _was_ her mates, she was still going to have to kill them. 

And it was her mates and his, all of them there on the floor of the pub, giving them a standing ovation while a sparkling banner that read _Congrats Prats!_ hung above their heads. Alice and Dorcas were seated at the bar, wearing polka-dotted party hats and laughing while Mary and Peter high-fived and did a little jig. Sirius wolf-whistled (wearing his own stylish party hat) while Remus rolled his eyes at the rest of them with a bemused smirk and _was that Sirius handing him five galleons?_  

Yes, she was going to kill them all.

“Congratulations, Lily!” Mary cooed, running up to her giving her a kiss on the cheek, “Knew you’d figure it out eventually!”

“Yeah, took you long enough,” Sirius grumbled under his breath, glaring at Remus as the werewolf provokingly patted the newly-full coin purse in his pocket, “Thanks for that.” 

“ _What are you all doing here?_ ” Lily demanded, incensed. She was feeling that pressure again, her chest tightening painfully, and she knew by now that her face was probably just about the shame shade of red as her hair by now, she could feel the heat rising and _oh why were they looking at she and James like that, it was too much, all of this was too fragile-_  

Her racing heart and thoughts were stopped dead, though, when she saw the proud smile that James wore on his face, the way he held her hand surely, like a badge of honor. And she was reminded that he was good, they were good together, and it was time for the whole world to know. 

So, instead of running and hiding (which she felt a bit like doing, _Merlin this was all a bit much_ ), she gave James’s hand a quick squeeze and transformed her defensive glare into a dazzling smile of her own. 

 _She could do this. She could be James’s._  

“Had to see it for ourselves, of course,” Alice was saying, not noticing the inner turmoil that Lily had just nearly drowned in. The witch was grinning smugly from her place on the bar as she said, “We’ve been living through this soap opera for nearly a decade now, had to see it through to the end, yeah?” 

Peter nodded vigorously, his poor hat nearly coming off as he interjected, “And there were certain conditions to the bet that had to be met-”

“Shut it, Wormtail,” Sirius muttered, elbowing him hard in the side before continuing, “Anyways, you didn’t think Prongsie-boy here pulled all that off on his own, did you? He’s more of the ideas guy, you know? Not one for the actual details, like how do you capture a million lightning bugs, and how in the world are you supposed to get past Muggle security? No, he leaves that for his lowly subjects, doesn’t really think that far ahead-” 

“Don’t sell him short, Sirius,” Remus interrupted with a smirk, coming up behind him, “You can’t really say that James doesn’t plan ahead, seeing as he plotted this all around fourth year.” 

“I thought plans number one through ten were written in third year?” Peter asked, furrowing his brow, “Although, those mostly involved frogs, so I suppose they don’t really count.” 

James had turned the most amazing shade of red at this point, and Lily couldn’t help but giggle at the usually cocksure boy’s embarassment. “Really?” Lily asked (feeling a squeeze around her heart because _oh James_ ), “That long?” 

“Yes,” Sirius interrupted for his mortified best mate, “And although we’d gotten up to plan eight hundred seventy-two by now, this was only plan three-hundred sixteen. Altered though, of course, seeing as it’s a different castle and all. That made it even more of a challenge, of course, but nothing stands between the Marauders and a good pra-erm, true love!” 

“You lot are the biggest bunch of prats I have ever met,” Lily told them, but she still couldn’t stop smiling. 

There were witnesses. 

This was real. 

He was hers.

And they were surrounded by their friends in the early hours of the morning, laughing as the boys hoisted James onto their shoulders and paraded him around and then subsequently dropped him, everyone catcalling them when he bundled her up into a hug and kissed the top of her head, the happiness that soaked into their every pore and emanated throughout the entire room, it was telling them that no, not everything would be perfect, it might not even be all right. But at least through whatever storm was sure to come, they would be together, Lily and James, every moment of it.

She was happy, happier than she could ever remember being in that pub as the sun rose over the hill. 

And then Ellie walked down the stairs, took one look at James and Lily’s hands entertwined, and screamed, shattering the moment into a million pieces.

 

* * *

 

In a blur of blue chiffon and golden locks that took only a second, Ellie had come to stand right in front of Lily and James, yanking apart their hands and pointing her wand straight at the latter’s heart. 

James heard a sharp intake of breath around the room, like everyone had gasped in perfect unison. It might have actually sounded quite pretty, almost musical, if he wasn’t distracted by the fact that he might just die today. 

Because the witch’s eyes, Ellie’s eyes, were turning that strange purple color again, the whites of her eyes slowly disappearing like a demon had taken over, and James suddenly knew that she wasn’t fucking around this time. 

“I warned you, James Potter,” Ellie said, her chilly voice cutting across him like cold steel as she prodded him in the chest with her wand, “I warned you to _stay away from her_.” 

Lily seemed to be the only one not caught up in the spell of the crazed witch as she interjected sharply, “What the bloody hell are you going on about, Ellie? And get your wand away from James right now!” 

The redheaded witch gasped, though, when Ellie whipped her head around to face her, her blackened eyes staring right through her. “You need to stay away from him, Lily,” the blonde witch said fervently, and James felt her wand twisting into him, “James Potter is going to get you killed!” 

“Get away!” Lily suddenly shouted at her friend, “This isn’t funny, Ell! Get away from him, _now!_ ” 

“I’ve seen it, Lily!” Ellie shouted back, “I’ve seen your lines, twisted and knotted together and then it just _ends_ but if you would just stay away you could escape it, I’m sure you could, James Potter needs to just stay away-” She was waving her hands through the air as if trying to show them something only her sightless eyes could see (although James was rather distracted by feeling of relief washing over him now that her wand was no longer being pointed at him). Ellie turned back towards them, and he could see tears streaming down her face (and somehow he was surprised that they were just normal, run-of-the-mill tears coming from those terrifying eyes). She collapsed at Lily’s feet, dress puddling around her as she looked up at her friend, saying, “Don’t you see, Lily? Can’t you see it? This is the only way, the only way you make it. Don’t you see?” 

To the entire room’s surprise (and with another audible gasp that under other circumstances James might have found almost comical), Lily fell to her knees in front of her friend, tears pooling in her own eyes.

“Ellie,” she whispered, taking the other witch’s hands, and the room strained to hear her words, “Ellie, love, you are so burdened by all that you see. And I know you are just trying to protect me. But I know, somehow I _know_ that this is where I’m supposed to be. By his side, that’s where I’m supposed to be.” 

“But you don’t know what I’ve seen-” 

“You yourself have said that sometimes your Sight is clouded by the worst, the heaviest of the visions,” Lily said fervently, and she thrust her overturned palm at her friend, “Look, look at my life, and tell me then. Read my palm, and tell me then that he and I are not supposed to be together. See past the bad because love, I fear we are all heading for tragedy either way. But I think with him, it may be worth it.” 

With a small nod of her head and a quick sniffle, Ellie turned her eyes towards Lily’s palm, and began to trace out her life.

The room sat in silence, occasionally punctuated by a gasp or sudden “oh!” as Ellie stepped inside the future. James was left to replay the whiplash of the last few minutes (and restrain himself every once in a while from whooping around the room because _Merlin that’s really how Lily felt and everyone had heard so there was no denying it this time, he really and truly had her_ ), and occasionally swap shocked and confused glances with the other frozen figures around the room. 

Soon, Ellie’s eyes began to cool into their usual crystal blue, and when she finally looked up they were brimming with tears.

“Oh Lily!” she cried, throwing herself into her friend’s arms and sobbing into her shoulder. 

“I told you,” Lily hummed into her frizzy golden locks as she hugged her back, “I told you, everything is going to be okay. It’s all going to be worth it, yeah?”

Ellie broke away from her and gave her a dazzling smile, “Yeah, yeah it will.” 

She popped up onto her feet suddenly, springing over to James and wrapping her tiny arms around him. She looked up at him, saying, “Sorry for all the dramatics. I was under the impression that you were going to ruin Lily’s life. Turns out there’s different levels to ruining, right? Some aren’t all that ruinous after all. Or maybe balanced? I’ll have to explore it in my crystal ball a little longer.” She stepped away from him (his head still ringing with that Ellie kind of whiplash), smiling at the room and saying, “Lovely, yeah? All of you, wow, just lovely.” 

She turned on her heel, then, skipping back over to the stairs. “Off to plan the wedding then. Find me when you’ve figured out the color scheme, alright Lily?” She blew a kiss their way, and with another twirl of baby blue chiffon, she was gone.

There was a long pause as nobody knew quite what to do next.

It was broken, predictably, by Sirius as he said, “Is anybody going to explain to me what the bloody hell just happened?” 

“I think I just got her approval, mate,” James replied, smiling at Lily as she dusted herself off and barely holding himself back from snogging her full on then and there as she gave him her own soft smile back because _Merlin she loved him back, she loved him more than he had ever let himself hope for and why the hell weren’t they finding the nearest flat surface-_  

“Mad, mad bird,” Sirius was muttering under his breath, but Lily and James ignored him as they rushed up the stairs, laughing as all of their friends catcalled them from behind and generally not giving a damn because the world was bloody unforgiving during wartimes but if a Seer had just told them it would be okay, well, then maybe it _really would_ be okay for them someday. 

They could always hope.

And until that day, well, there were plenty of other things for the two of them to do.

 

 


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I hate myself for making all of you wait, but this chapter was absolute torture. It is the bridge to my next plot arc, and I pretty much had to plot out the rest of the story in order to get it written the way I needed it to be. Plus, my creative well had run dry for a bit. But, I am back and inspired and know where I am going now! I also graduate from college in two weeks, and will be substitute teaching until the fall after that, which will leave me WAY more time for writing in the next few months. Hopefully I can get this thing finished! Anyways, here is the beginning of the end, sorry not sorry for moving into more angst! (Hopefully I can continue to throw some fluff in here and there to keep it bearable). As always, thanks to every single one of you who has left a review or kudos, etc., you all inspire me and are the reason this story keeps chugging along! Follow me on tumblr at a-collection-of-nonsense for updates, chapter moodboards, and more Jily writing. Love all of you!

25.

 

James and Lily were fighting again.

The yells and shrieks rang throughout the house; objects were thrown, and only sometimes successfully dodged. Residents of the Safe House passed each other in the hallways, sharing a groan and rolling their eyes at each other in solidarity.

See, Lily and James were trying to move in together.

“I agree, Lily, your room is bigger, but we _have_ to throw that mattress out. You _like_ my bed, you told me so only two nights ago, and your bed looks like you grabbed it from the dumpster!”

“Don’t turn my words against me, I said I liked the bed much more than the table we did it on the other night and that’s all! It’s far too big, and I’ll have you know my Scourgify-ing charms are stellar and the mattress looked hardly used when I grabbed it-”

“That’s actually disgusting Lily, how on _earth_ do you live like this-”

“Says the boy who hasn’t washed his old Quidditch uniform since fourth year! If the mattress goes, so does that monstrosity!”

“It’s my lucky jersey, thank you very much, and Gryffindor hasn’t lost the Cup since then so I’ll wash it when hell freezes over-”

Sirius, Remus, and Mary rolled their eyes at each other in unison from the library-turned-break room down the hall from the couple.

“Why are they still fighting?” Sirius asked with a pained expression, rubbing at his forehead where it felt like a migraine was coming on, “I thought it would stop once they got together.”

“Why in the world would you think that?” Mary asked with an amused expression.

Sirius shot her a confused look. “Oh, I don’t know MacDonald,” he said saracastically, “Maybe because they’re a fucking couple now? Aren’t people in love not supposed to fight like a _couple of raving lunatics?”_ He shouted that last bit down the hall, but it seemed not to affect the pair, maybe even caused their volume to _rise_.

“Sirius, it’s Lily and James,” Remus said with a smirk, “I’m pretty sure that fighting is their foreplay.” 

“Oi, that’s disgusting!” Sirius exclaimed with a grimace. He had found that as much as he loved that his two mates were finally together, the idea of his pseudo-brother and the closest thing he’d ever had to a sister having sex was a bit nauseating.

However, Remus was soon proved right as telltale thumps could be heard behind James’s door, and Lily’s shrieks had turned into an entirely different kind.

Mary and Remus laughed at Sirius’s disgusted face as he shouted down the hallway, “You two are disgusting! A disgrace!”

 

* * *

 

“So, can we once and for all agree on the bed?” James asked with a smirk as he gave a self-satisfied cat-like stretch, Lily still trying to catch her breath in the background.

“I hate you,” she grumbled in reply, before reluctantly adding, “But yes, we can keep the damn bed.”

“Victory!” James shouted, sitting up as he punched a fist through the air triumphantly, reminiscent of the Quidditch celebrations of days gone by.

However, he should have known by now that Lily was never one to give up so easily.

“In exchange¾” he tried to cut her off with a long groan, but she persisted, rolling over now so that she could mischievously raise an eyebrow as she haggled, “We keep the bed in exchange for you getting rid of that damn jersey. Or at least washing it, I don’t care, as long as its stench is not the first thing I notice when I walk in the room.”

“You could wear a Bubble Charm,” James muttered grumbly under his breath, earning him a pointed glare. Reluctantly, he agreed, “Fine, my jersey’s championship winning stench will not be accompanying me into the room. Good enough?” She nodded, and while he knew he had her attention he continued in a grandiose fashion (somehow he could never resist the performer in him when she was around, even now), “ _However_ , I will not tell you where said jersey will be residing from now on in case you have one of your bouts of madness and try to burn it, or worse, _clean it_ , thus ruining the House Cup chances for Gryffindor for generations to come.”

(James had already prepared for this eventuality, knowing he had fuck-all chance of ever winning an argument against Lily. Honestly, if it weren’t for how fun it was to rile her up, he would have said yes to just about anything she asked of him. He had already hidden the lucky jersey in Sirius’s room, whose own natural stench, or ‘musk’ as he called it, covered up any that might have come from the jersey itself. Plus, he knew that to anyone other than those who had roomed with Sirius before refused to go into the dragon’s lair he called a room (and that was only because they’d been conditioned over seven years to live in such filth). So, the jersey would be safe from Lily’s clutches.)

“You act like I’m not a Gryffindor myself,” Lily scoffed with a roll of her eyes at his antics, but James knew she was quite forcefully repressing a smile, and that made him adopt a cocky grin (half because he had gotten to her and that always felt _so_ good, half because _damn_ he was funny).

James was surprised, though, when instead of slapping him on the shoulder or yelling at him or storming out, all of the reactions he was accustomed to when he laughed at an irritated Lily, the redhead instead nestled in closer, her hair fall across his chest as she rested her head comfortably on his shoulder.

It was nice. 

Anti-climatic words to describe Lily Evans lying bare-naked against his similarly unclothed body in his bed, a fantasy he’d had since he first noticed the way girls’ legs looked extra long in those school uniform skirts, and yet that’s all he had to say about it: nice. 

Because that was the best part about it, wasn’t it? The fact that there was no dramatic buildup, no world-shaking confessions or realization happening in this bed. No, it was just another day. 

Just another day of him and Lily. And then there would be a tomorrow, and a day after that, and a day after that. On and on they could go, just _existing_ together, and that thought was astounding to James. Astounding how one person could change the most menial, uninteresting of events into nothing short of a miracle. 

A pedestrian daydream, that’s what this felt like. And James never wanted to wake up. 

In fact, he had to stop himself from dozing into one of those happy naps; he could hear the hands on his father’s old watch ticking on the bedside table, and he knew they were going to be late to the Order meeting if they didn’t get moving soon.

As always, though, his Lily was one step ahead of him. She sat up, her locks retreating from his skin like a receding wave, and instead falling down her back. 

“C’mon, love,” she said with one of those happy, warm, _content_ smiles over her shoulder, “Got to get a move on, yeah? Can’t have us coming in late to the Order meeting, what a walk of shame _that_ would be.” 

“Sorry to break it to ya, Lils,” James chuckled as he dragged himself out of the bed and began to go through the articles of clothing scattered all over the floor, tossing Lily’s shirt at her, “But unless they’re deaf or dead, _everyone_ knows what just happened in here. You’re a bit of a screamer.” 

Lily blushed beet red, and James felt a sense of glee bubbling up inside of him of him. _Did she not know? Oh Merlin, tell me she doesn’t know._

“Am not!” she tried to retort, forcefully throwing his balled up trousers at him from across the room, “You’re full of shit, Potter.” 

James felt that familiar Marauders mischief overcoming him, and he wondered what he had done to deserve such a gift, such an easy way to tease the girl he loved (because as much as she whined about _his_ ego, he knew that she needed to be knocked down a few pegs every now and then herself, too.)

“How about we ask around then,” he said, pretending to make towards the door, “Take a poll, like, see if anyone has a noise complaint.” 

“Noooo!” she squealed (once again abnormally loud for such a small person), jumping on his arm as he reached for the door handle, “Don’t, you arse!” 

“In case you were wondering,” a familiar voice boomed through the far wall, “Which I know you were since I can hear _every bleeding word_ , yes Evans, you are a screamer.” 

“Shut up, Black!” Lily cried, covering her face with her hands (which had become impossibly redder, really, did she have any blood in her feet at this point?) in horror, “You’re a prat and no one likes you!” 

“Hey, I’m just settling your debate!” Sirius shouted back, “No need to get defensive! And anyways, Lilykins, it’s not all your fault, the walls here are paper thin and James is shit at silencing spells.”

“Hey!” James shouted defensively. 

“You have no legs to stand on here, Prongs,” Sirius’s voice boomed again, “We _are_ having a conversation through the walls right now, after all.” 

James let his forehead thud against the wall in mock frustration as Lily broke down in giggles beside him, with Sirius’s barking laughter through the wall, and there it was again, another one of those perfect moments: an utterly mundane miracle.

 

* * *

 

Eventually, they did get to the Order meeting, although Lily was sure her face was still red (and she worried that her skin tone would never be the same. _A screamer? Her?_ It was mortifying). 

And although she felt like shooting Sirius and James another set of piercing glares (they kept on sharing they mischievous looks and she just _knew_ that were cooking up some new way to embarrass her, the wankers) Lily patiently cleared her head and refocused on the current speaker, Emmeline Vance, who was giving an update on the bleak Liverpool attacks from two weeks previous. 

It was Lily’s second Order meeting since she’d gotten her head on straight again. Not at all coincidentally, this timeline paralleled her new relationship with James (because they were there now, the relationship stage. Although, ‘boyfriend’ seemed like too limpid of a word to capture all that he was to her). She supposed that was how they’d always been, she and James. He had always been the one person who could bring her back down to earth. Lily now wondered if that’s part of the reason they had fought so much: he had made her face more than one ugly truth, face reality, when she’d always been so much happier just running away. 

Now, James’s ability to ground her had played into her favor. She was back, a little worse for the wear without a doubt, but she was back all the same. 

( _And it was nice, not having people constantly casting her worried glances, like she might fall apart at any moment, not having people tiptoeing around her and watching every word they said. It was nice, being treated like a fighter again.)_  

Emmeline finished her report and went to sit back down, everyone shifting in their seats to pack up their things in preparation to leave, as she was supposed to be the last presenter. 

However, a stifling hush fell over the crowd as Professor Dumbledore rose from his seat and made his way to the floor. 

Although Albus Dumbledore was the founder of the Order of the Phoenix, he was absent from meetings more often than not. He had his hands in so many operations at the moment, between keeping Hogwarts functioning, trying to keep the voice for Muggleborn rights alive in the Wizengamot and other government branches, on top of operating a secret organization that most of the day-to-day work was run by Alastor Moody. And, when Dumbledore did manage to show up to the meetings, he simply listened in a contemplative silence, adding a thoughtful comment or posing a probing question here and there, but mostly silent. 

This was why, when Professor Dumbledore drew himself up to his (quite substantial) full geight and cleared his throat to address the small crowd gathered, it became so silent you could hear a pin drop. A tense anticipation had settled over the crowd, everyone feeling a sudden tightness in their shoulders as they leaned forward to listen. 

Everyone knew this was going to be important. 

“Good evening, my esteemed colleagues,” the professor began with a gravitas that did not bode well, “Thank you all for joining me at such an odd hour for this meeting. I have always appreciated getting to see each of your faces at these meetings. It is a timely reminder of all those we having fighting for us, all of the lives we are still fighting for.” He let a small, sad smile linger amongst the crowd. “However, I unfortunately am here to present the news that we will no longer be meeting in such large groups. I, and the other directors of the Order, feel that the need for secrecy is high than ever. We believe¾” and here he paused, almost wincing imperceptibly as he said these next words, “We believe that someone in this very room may have turned.” 

An uproar. Everyone shouting at once, whether it was accusations or denial that any one of them could be a spy. Some even making noise just to make the hurt, the pain at such an idea as a betrayal, audible. 

Lily herself felt her heart jump into her throat because _they had all been thinking it, hadn’t they, everyone knew that someone was causing all of these foolproof missions to fail, but no one had wanted to say, and how many had they lost because of this rat? Her Benjy? And so many more besidse…_

_How many had they lost because they were too afraid to admit that someone had betrayed them all?_

Dumbledore raised his hand, and a hush fell over the crowd again. “I know,” he said gravely, “I know this is hard to admit to ourselves, that one of us has been seduced by such an evil. We have been brothers and sisters in combat for too long. It seems unimaginable. However, the evidence has become overwhelming, and such a fact undeniable. We have a mole, a spy for Lord Voldemort in our midst.” He paused again, as if expecting more outrage, but other than a slight hiss of an intake of breath when the idea was laid out so plainly before them all it was silent. “Because of this,” he continued, “We will be working together in smaller groups, in cells you might call them. Each cell will only have the information relevant to their specific mission. This should not only limit the amount of casualties from failed missions but may also reveal who is leaking the information. 

“Now, I speak directly to whoever the spy may be,” Dumbledore continued scanning the room, “First, I would like to beg you to come forward. Come forward and let us save you from the clutches of Lord Voldemort. He is an evil man, cruel and violent to even the most devoted of his followers, and you will find no love in the world as long as you are amongst your ranks. I implore you to look around the room, because these witches and wizards who stand beside you are your family. They are brave and kind and the embodiment of love, and they will forgive you if only you come forward now and accept responsibility for your actions.” The white-haired wizard scanned the room, piercing blue eyes find every soul. 

 _And Lily felt them settle on her for a beat longer than anyone else and her heart began racing because what if he thought it was her, what if he thought that her time undercover had truly broken her, what if he was right to suspect, what if she had turned evil after everything she had one_ _¾_  

James grabbed Lily’s hand as Dumbledore’s gaze passed over them, and she sagged into him, his warmth a physical reminder that _no_ she had come back, she had already begged for forgiveness, she was atoning for her mistakes. She was nothing like the mole, whoever it was.

With no one coming forward (not that he seemed much surprised), Dumbledore continued, “However, do not doubt that because of our forgiving nature that we are not seeking you. If you do not turn yourself in, you are declaring yourself our enemy, and although we fight on the side of good rather than evil, we are not soft in our justice. We _will_ find you, and you will account for all of the pain you have caused.” 

A choked silence followed, the kind filled with so much hurt and pain and sadness and rage that it was a miracle anyone could take a breath. The presence of a mole, a rat, a spy, a _betrayer_ , had sucked all of the oxygen out of the room. 

“I am greatly saddened to have been forced to end an already difficult meeting on such a despairing note. However, we must remain fast. Remember, all, that above everything we fight for love. Do not let one betrayer harden your heart. Be cautious and protect yourself, but do not let this cause you to turn on another. We must remain strong.” He smiled that sad smile again, the one that pulled at Lily’s heart strings because _Merlin, he looked tired_ , before finishing with, “Once again, thank you all for coming. You are dismissed. Mr. Lupin, if I may have a word with you before you leave.” 

Lily expected there to be another uproar as Dumbledore receded from the outer chamber of his cramped office, where the meeting was being held, and into his inner private chambers with Remus Lupin trailing behind. Without the calm presence of their fearless leader, she expected all hell to break loose, for everyone to shout and scream their rage, to let out everything that _must_ have been building inside of them this entire meeting ( _she had so much built up inside her that she thought she was going to explode_ ). 

But it remained silent. 

As if they were already suspicious of one another, as if they were waiting to discuss the idea amongst those they only _truly_ trusted ( _although who even fell under that category anymore?_ ). No one was even making eye contact with each other. 

( _And Lily could see that despite Dumbledore’s speech at the end the damage was already done, the rot at the core of the Order was visible now, and it was only spreading_.)

 

* * *

 

 The silence did not last long, at least for Lily.

“Sirius, sit down, really,” she implored from her seat on top of the bar, her legs slightly swinging back and forth where they were suspended in the air where she sat on watch with the pureblood wizard, “You’re not going to solve any of this by pacing a hole through the floor.” 

“I just don’t get it!” Sirius thundered, ignoring Lil’s pleads, “How could someone turn? After all we’ve been through together? After all we’ve faced, all we’ve seen? How could anyone side with those fucking psychos after that?” 

“Well, maybe that’s just it,” Lily reasoned softly, “Maybe they’re scared. We all are, aren’t we? Afraid to be the next funeral, or for our loved ones to be. Maybe they’re trying to protect someone?” 

“That’s bullshit though, every single person in the Order is connected, they’re, fuck, they’re more of a family to me than the Blacks ever were,” Sirius spat back in reply, “Whoever the mole is, they’re betraying their _family_ , getting their _family_ killed!” 

“I know Sirius, but-”

“And why are you defending them?” Sirius thundered, “How could you defend whoever the scum is that is betraying us all? That could get you or me killed, could get our _James_ killed?” 

“ _Sirius_!” Lily shouted back, her face now red with anger, “I’m not trying to defend them! I’m just trying not to lose my shit over this, okay? Rationalize it or control what I can, whatever the hell it takes to keep me grounded because the thought¾” She paused for a moment, her breathing heavier from the yelling, before continuing more slowly, “Just the thought of whoever the bastard is touching James, or any one of your, makes me want to burn this whole place down. So I’m trying to get a handle on that, okay? I can’t lose it again, it won’t help anyone, and even worse I can’t put James through that again. So just leave off, okay? Take a seat or a drink or whatever the fuck you need to chill out.” With that, she swung herself so that she could lay flat against the bar, avoiding Sirius’s gaze as tears gathered in the corners of her eyes. 

It was true, that she was just doing the best she could at the moment to keep her shit together. Looking back, it all made sense, all the times when they’d been expecting a vacant house or a guard of one or two, an easy mission, and it had turned into a slaughter. So many Order members, so many _friends_ lost because the Death Eaters always seemed to be a step ahead of them. 

And now she knew why.

And she knew that it didn’t really make sense, but she was looking for motive, some sort of _reason_ for this because she knew every person in the Order, knew their family and their life story and trusted them with her life. Yet, one of them had turned. And it was so hard to think that one of them was secretly a monster that she was looking for any other answer out there to explain it away because otherwise she was afraid she would lose her faith in humanity again, would turn to pieces all over again. She couldn’t lose her trust in the other Order members; for her, that was as good as suicide.

So she would leave the suspicion and anger and hate to others. She could not burden her own heart with it as of yet. 

Lily was so lost in her own thoughts that she was startled when Sirius suddenly hopped up onto the bar next to her and place her head in his lap. He played with her hair lightly as he said, “Control what we can. Okay. So how do I do that? I’d rather not combust into a flaming ball of anger if possible, yeah?”

A small smile ghosted Lily’s lips because _look at him, he’s growing up, just like me_. Maybe together, someday they would get their drama queen impulses under control.

“I’m trying to figure out how to reverse some dark spells and potions,” she told him, soothed by the way he was petting her hair, “Now that I know how much intentions play a role in a spell, I figure I could figure out how to reverse some of the dark curses out there, maybe even create a mirror of them that is just as powerful but less, well, evil.” 

Sirius bent his head over Lily’s then, a wolfish grin appearing above her. “Well, Lilykins,” he told her, “You have come to the right person. I happen to be owner of the most extensive library of Dark Magic in the United Kingdom.”

Lily rolled her eyes at him. “What in Merlin’s name are you talking about, Black?” 

“Grimmauld Place,” he told matter-of-factly, “The old ancestral home.”

“Well I know that,” she told him impatiently, “But how does that help me anyways? Didn’t you get rid of it ages ago?”

Sirius’s face darkened for a moment. “Couldn’t sell it, unfortunately,” he said bitterly, “Couldn’t afford it falling into Regulus’s hands, so Dumbledore made me hang onto it. Haven’t visited since I inherited it, of course”, _(and Lily could hear the words ‘since my mother’s death’ hanging in the pause here)_ , “But I bet there would be loads of resources there for your mad experiments. I could take you there.” 

Lily was touched by his offer. She had heard the horror stories of his childhood during some of their late-night chats, heard of what she was sure was only a sliver of the abuse he had endured in the ancestral home of the most ancient House of Black. When he had run away from it at the end of sixth year to the Potter mansion, he had vowed never to go back. 

Yet here he was, offering to take her there. 

“You don’t have to do this, Sirius,” she told him, offering him an out ( _even as she prayed that he wouldn’t take it, because all of those books, all of that research, she couldn’t even imagine what it could teacher her-)_  

“You’re right, Lils,” he told her, stroking her hair, “I’m going mad here, and I need to control what I can. This is it, I finally have something fucking _useful_ to offer the Order, so I’ve got to take it.” He gave her an ironic grin. “It’s either this or breaking my knuckles punching the wall, right?”

“I wish there was a third option for people like us,” Lily acknowledged with a sigh.

“Oh, people like us?” Sirius quoted sarcastically, “Perfect little Lily Evans and the big bad Sirius Black, suddenly two of a kind?” 

But, despite his tone, she knew he understood. _People like us_. It was true, they were cut from the same cloth. Carrying too much baggage, taking too much of the blame, overreacting to problems in a way that only fanned the flame.

Somehow it was comforting knowing that they were both such trainwrecks, on a one-way trip to self-destruction. It meant maybe they’d get the chance to pull each other of the tracks before it was too late.

“So tomorrow, then?” Sirius continued, glancing at his watch briefly to see how much more time they had left of guard duty. 

“Tomorrow,” Lily agreed.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends! This chapter is dedicated to tumblr friends scaredofrobots, that-random-fanatic, and levins18 for saying such nice things about my writing that I did a happy dance around the room. You are dolls and I love you! Thank you, as well, to all you reviewers who regularly breathe life into me! This chapter marks the beginning of the next plot arc, and will carry us to the end. Let me know what you think!




“Are you sure, Sirius?” Lily asked the wizard standing next to her, arm tucked in his and leaning against him slightly (pretending as if she was the one who needed the support), “We don’t have to go in if you don’t want to.”

But Sirius shook his head, brushing away some of the raindrops that had settled in his hair on this drizzle-y, grey day in Muggle London. “No, I think I need to go back,” he said, “Even if it is just to burn it all down.” He gave Lily a wink, and she appreciated that he was trying, that he was teasing her even as they entered the setting for all of his childhood abuse.

“Not until I get my books, mind you,” she teased back, sticking her tongue out at him, “So is this really it, then? For some reason I expected the home of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black to be a bit less, well, Muggle.” 

Indeed it was difficult to even tell which of the townhouses, stacked up one against the other like children’s blocks, the infamous House of Black was. All of them looked boring, unassuming, even _dull_. 

Words that Lily would never have used to describe any Black she had ever met. 

In fact, 12 Grimmauld Place was currently the most _normal_ residence on the block. See, Lily had completely forgotten that the night she and Sirius had planned to finally visit his old home fell on Halloween. At the moment, all of the houses on the block were decked out with cobwebs and jack-o-lanterns, Muggle children out in droves in a wide variety of ridiculous costumes as they ran from door to door begging for sweets. 

Peculiarly, they all skipped the bare steps of Number 12. 

Noticing Lily’s curious look, Sirius quietly muttered under his breath so that passerbys could not hear, “They can’t see it, the Muggles. It’s invisible to them, has been for decades. The lot of them think there was some strange misnumbering of the houses, skipped from eleven to thirteen on accident.”

Lily watched the gazes of several of the passing Muggle families skip right over Sirius’s old home. “It always makes me wonder,” she said absently, “If magic itself recognizes me as a witch, as magical rather than Muggle, why can’t the rest of the world?” 

Several beats of silence passed before Lily turned her head to look at her uncharacteristically quiet companion. To her surprise, he was _beaming_. “I wish dear old mum was around to hear you say that,” Sirius said with a laugh, “I think her head might have _literally_ exploded on that one.”

“Shut up,” she laughed in return, shoving his shoulder with her own, “Let’s get moving, yeah? We’re not in costume, the Muggles are starting to stare.” 

“Told you we should have worn our robes,” Sirius smirked before walking up the steps towards Number 12. 

(And Lily was so glad she’d made him laugh, just once, before he had to enter that place that, to hear from James, was the stuff of nightmares.) 

Because then the door was opening and Sirius had a different set in his shoulders, a slight stoop that she’d never seen in him before, and even as he turned around to take her hand he avoided her eyes, kept them downcast and hooded, and her heart turned in on itself to see the fearless, reckless, lionhearted Sirius Black¾ 

Afraid.

 

* * *

 

The second they walked into the townhouse they were met with piercing screams. 

“ _BLOOD TRAITOR! DISGRACE! NO SON OF MINE!_ ” the voice screeched, “ _BRINGING A MUDBLOOD INTO MY HOME! TURNING AGAINST YOUR OWN BLOOD!_ ” 

“What the bloody hell!?!” Sirius shouted over the noise, “I thought the cow was dead!” 

“Who?” Lily shouted back, covering her ears against the noise.

“My mother!” he yelled. 

And Lily felt a panic rising in her chest because _what if this was a trap, what if they were just trying to lure Sirius back home to finish him off, his ruthless, cruel family_ _¾_  

But then she spotted down the din entryway a life-size painting with a woman pacing back and forth, her face red from the way she was screaming. The way the hatred shone in those stormy grey eyes, so visceral even through the flat painted surface, she knew it could only be one person: Walburga Black. 

“It’s just a painting!” Lily called over the continued screeching insults, pointing down the hallway for Sirius to see. 

“ _Oh thank Merlin_ ,” he replied, letting out a great heaving sigh that released all of the tension that Lily has seen building up in him, “I swear I almost had a heart attack.” He made his way down the narrow hallway to stand in front of the painting. 

“Hello Mother,” Sirius told the painting, that arrogant tilt of his chin back (and Lily could just imagine him holding himself the same way in a dozen of similar encounters, in all the small ways he had rebelled against his family over the years), “Did you miss me?” 

“ _SCUM OF THE EARTH! TRAITOR! NOT WELCOME IN MY HOUSE!_ ” 

“I suppose that’s a no,” he replied with a smirk, “Ah well, if it makes you feel any better I didn’t miss you either. Now, how do we go about shutting you up? Wow, it feels nice saying that out loud for once.” 

It turned out there had been curtains installed over the portrait to do just that; soundproofed somehow, although nearly impossible to close over the resistant painting. 

“There we go,” Sirius said with a sigh once they finally had the painting covered off, wiping a bit of sweat off of his forehead before turning back to Lily, “Now, where were we? Would you like a tour of my former prison? It’s kind of like one of those Muggle House of Horrors, plenty of crrepy crawlies to keep you up at night.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her, and she rolled her eyes. 

Lily’s reply was cut off, however, by a figure coming down the staircase. 

“Kreacher, I thought you had come up with some way to spell that wretched portrait shut,” the figure said, obviously not noticing them yet, “All that shouting is starting to give me a migraine¾” Finally he saw the two of them, standing in the shadows of the hallway. His face contorted into shock, his body recoiling slightly as if physically impacted by what he was seeing. He was only able to muster one word: 

“ _Sirius?_ ” 

Time seemed to stand still, and Lily slowly began to understand the significance of the moment. She hadn’t recognized him at first, not with his sallow skin and the dark circles under his eyes, the haunted look hidden behind them. But it was still there, in those fashionably high cheekbones and regal nose, the sleek black hair that so mirrored the man standing beside her. 

It was Regulus Black. 

And then time unfroze, and it was chaos. 

“ _You son of a bitch!_ ” Sirius shouted, drawing his wand in a flash, curses firing wildly from its tip, “ _You foul, murdering, evil little cockroach!”_  

Regulus was dodging the curses as best he could, drawing up Shield Charm after Shield Charm as he retreated back up the stairs. “Sirius!” he was shouting back, “I can explain! I left them, I ran away, I’m on your side now! Sirius, you have to listen!” 

But Sirius seemed to not hear, was deaf to everything in his blinding rage. “Marlene’s dead because of you!” he screamed, “All of the McKinnons, every single one! And it’s your fault!” He fired another barrage of curses. “ _I’ll kill you!”_

Lily was still rooted in one spot, trying to understand all that she was seeing and deciding what to do next. First there was Sirius, violent and raging and hell bent on killing his brother, and really she couldn’t let him do that now, could she? And Regulus, there was something off about him, something different. He wasn’t firing back, just using those Shields, and the way he already looked like he was knocking on death’s door was strange. What he was saying, the way he was acting, the way he looked, it all added up. 

( _Because he looked the way she had, that first day back, haunted by all the horrible things she had done and not believing she was really redeemable, that she was already cursed to hell, but determined to atone, to make up for it all, anyways_.) 

And Lily believed him. 

Even she was a bit shocked as she raised her wand with a shout of, “ _Stupefy!_ ”, shocked as the stream of red light hit the man next to her, the wrong Black. 

Regulus stared at her, eyes wide in shock, his wand drooping uselessly in his hand. “Wh-what did you just do?” he whispered, “You Stunned… _him_?” 

But Lily had not gotten this far in the war, this far in life, by being naïve. She already had her wand raised threateningly at the other Black. “Tell me what you meant,” she snarled at him, making sure to let him know that he was not in the clear quite yet, “Tell me _everything_ right now or I swear to Merlin I will wake Sirius up and let him finish you off once and for all.” 

Regulus raised his hands immediately, taking an uncertain step back. “Lily, right?” he said faintly, like he couldn’t quite believe what was happening, “Lily Evans? I remember you from school. Head Girl, and you were always so kind, even to me…” 

“Talk!” she snarled again, thrusting her wands to send out a flash of red warning sparks. 

“Okay, okay!” Regulus called back, seeming to snap out of whatever trance he had been in, “L-like I said, I left. The Death Eaters, Voldemort. I ran away.” 

“What do you mean by that?” she asked him suspiciously, “Why would you leave? You’re a Black after all.” 

“So is he,” Regulus replied, motioning his chin at Sirius, lying motionless on the ground, and he seemed to gain more confidence as he stared at his brother, “I finally got it. I saw what he saw.” He stood up straighter. “I don’t think I really understood it, in school and all. What it really meant. I thought I was just becoming a part of a kind of secret club with all my friends. Exclusive, you know, the popular kids.” He shifted uncomfortably. “And Mum and Dad, they pushed it so hard, and I’m sure you’ve heard from Sirius what tools they employed to get what they wanted.” 

Lily shuddered slightly, and he chuckled darkly. “Yeah, I’m sure he’s told you all about it,” he continued, “And it only got worse for me once Sirius left me, just so you know. Not that it excuses any of it.” He sighed. “Well, like I said, I didn’t know what I was getting into. And then, by the time I left school, I was in too deep.” Another dark chuckle, “I can’t believe I thought that _that_ was too deep. What a waste.” 

“I know you were a Death Eater,” Lily said sharply, “Whatever your reasons for joining, you were one. Now I want to know why you left.” 

Regulus’s face changed now, full of disgust (though whether at his memories of what the Death Eaters had done, or at himself, she could not tell), “When I got out of school and got initiated, I saw what they really were. What they _are_ , what they’ve _done_.” He shook his head as if trying to shake away the memories. “You don’t even know the half of it. It was _horrible_.” 

“Imagine what it was like for your victims then,” Lily spat back. She had seen too much, heard too much, to be overly impressed with a Death Eater’s distaste for his own gruesome acts. 

“I do,” he said, his voice incredibly serious, that haunted look resurfacing behind his eyes, “Every fucking day I think about it. I won’t ever forget what I did, believe me.” 

This time Lily nodded at him because this was a different way of talking. Not apologist, but a brutal understanding of what he had done and knowing that he would never truly leave that behind. That he _shouldn’t_ leave it behind, shouldn’t ever forget the mistakes that he made, and the pain and suffering that was left in their wake. 

Even as she learned to forgive herself, she would never, ever let herself forget. This attitude, yes, _this_ was something Lily could respect. 

“After a while the Dark Lord started taking a special interest in me. I think he could sense my revulsion at it all, how much I hated it, how much I hated myself. And that’s the thing with him, he feeds off of every single negative emotion, like a Dementor really. He kept me close because he _enjoyed_ watching me die a little bit every day. And that’s how I discovered what he was doing, trying to do.” Regulus paused and took a deep breath, as if building up for what he was about to say. “Lily, he’s trying to become immortal.” 

“You’re not serious,” Lily said dismissively, not for a second to allow herself to think about it, even as an anxious buzzing sound began to grow in the back of her head. She kept of waiting for the boy to crack a smile and shout _Gotcha! Made you look!_ But Regulus’s look of broken resignation did not change. “How?” she demanded, feeling herself grow hot, her palms begin to sweat as it all began to sink in, “How is that even possible?” 

“I’m not totally sure,” Regulus admitted, “I was there for one of the, well, rituals I guess you’d call them. He made me bow afterwards, kiss his feet, grovel. Said he was a god now and I had to treat him as such.” 

“And that’s when you left?” 

“And that’s when I left,” Regulus confirmed, “I’d been a coward for so long. I’d just been waiting for someone, Dumbledore maybe, I don’t really know, but _someone_ to come along and finish him off. I didn’t think this could last forever, that kind of evil never lasts long. But if he became immortal? It would never end, this hell, no one would be able to stop him. So I ran away, knowing what I know about how he did it. Now I just need to figure out what spell it was, undo it, and then kill him.” 

“Easy enough, yeah?” Lily breathed, still feeling the residual shock of the story. 

“Yeah,” he said, and a small, hesitant smile crept onto his face, “You believe me then?” 

“Yeah,” she said, lowering her wand slowly, “For some reason I think I do.” 

They both paused, staring at each other uncertainly. “Well,” Regulus started, “What do we do from here?” 

“I’ll bring you into the Order then, right?” Lily suggested, “You can tell Dumbledore, and everything’ll get fixed up, yeah?” 

“No no no,” he said, stepping back, “No way. You saw how Sirius reacted to me! I’d be dead before I could even tell my story. And you guys have a mole in the Order, if you haven’t figured it out by now. No clue who it is, by the way, so don’t ask, but if I was brought in Voldemort would know where I was within the hour and I’d be dead. No, the fewer people who know about me, the better.”

“Just Dumbledore then?” Lily suggested, “Please, you have to tell _someone_.” 

“But I already told you,” he said, with a confused look on his face, “You’re Lily Evans.” He said it like it was some obvious clue, an answer to a question that Lily hadn’t asked. 

“Yes, I know who I am,” she replied curtly, “And I say that you come in with me.” 

If she had watched him more closely, rather than kneeling down to inspect the still-Stunned Sirius the way she had, she would have seen a familiar look on his face. A glittering in his eyes that betrayed a fierce intelligence, a hidden mischievous side, the glint of a well-written lie. 

“Okay,” he said slowly, “But you’ll keep me safe, right? Let’s shake on it.” 

Lily thought this was strange, not quite sure that shaking on a promise was a wizard habit at all, but she conceded. “Shake on it.” 

However, as soon as Lily put her hand in his (wand carelessly left laying by Sirius’s side), he clenched her arm tightly, grasping her against him so that she could not move. His wand swished over their arms, silver rings beginning to float out. 

“Lily Evans,” he said forcefully, “Do you promise to help me bring down Voldemort through any means necessary, and to not reveal my existence to anyone?” 

“ _I will n_ _¾”_ Regulus clamped his wand hand over Lily’s mouth before she could let out her protests. She watched, horrified, as the rings encircled their clasped arms. As the rings dissipated, Regulus let her go. 

“What the hell was that?” Lily gasped, rubbing at the red marks on her arm. 

“ _That_ was an Unbreakable Vow,” Regulus told her, slightly out of breath himself, maybe from the struggle or maybe from the shock of what he had just done, “It’s a sacred wizarding promise.” 

“A promise?” she demanded, “I didn’t promise anything!” 

“You said ‘I will’,” he told her with a triumphant grin ( _and she tried not to think of how familiar that grin looked, of the memories it brought back_ ), “Can’t deny that.” 

“You stopped me before I could say no!” she shouted back furiously, “That doesn’t count, it was not the intent!” But Regulus still had that arrogant grin on his face, and Lily knew she was lost. Grasping at straws she asked, “What happens if I break it?” 

Regulus looked curious. “Well, usually you die,” he told her, rubbing at his chin, “But since the promise was not necessary, well, _willing_ I don’t really know. Maybe you’ll be fine, maybe it’ll put you in a coma. Care to test it?” 

“You despicable arse,” Lily hissed back. Because she knew it, knew she was trapped, and she had no idea what to do about it. There was no way out and no one to tell and just _fuck_. 

“I know, I know, I’m sorry,” Regulus, and now Lily saw a different side to him, the one that was so different from his brother. His shoulders were at a slight slump, and without the arrogant smirk to mask his face she could see the lines tracing his skin, ones that revealed the exhaustion and anxiety that seemed to stitch this defeated young man together. 

No, not defeated, that wasn’t the right word. At least, not anymore. 

Because he was looking at Lily like she shone like the sun, like she was the answer to all of his problems, like she was his last hope. 

And Lily realized she was. His last hope, that is. 

“I’m sorry for roping you into this, Evans, I really am,” Regulus said tiredly, “But I just-I can’t do this alone. If I really want to defeat him, defeat Voldemort, I can’t do this alone.” He gave her a small, shy smile (although Lily thought the shyness was a bit silly after sharing something like an Unbreakable Vow). “And you’re Lily Evans, right? If anyone can figure out this shit it would be you.” 

“Just – fuck, I don’t even know how to deal with this right now,” Lily replied, rubbing her hands over her eyes, “What do you even want from me?” 

“I want, ah Merlin, I just want you to come over here every once in a while,” Regulus told her, running a hand through his hair, “I have a shit ton of books and research, a lot that I stole from the Dark Lord himself, and I need someone to help me sort through it all, figure out what Voldemort did, what he’s _trying_ to do to become immortal.” He looked at her, that broken hopefulness in his eyes, “This could be it, right? The way to end the war?” 

(A _nd Lily felt her anger fading, felt her heart going out to him because fuck he must have been alone and lost for so long and that poor boy-)_  

“Fine,” Lily said finally, “Just, _fine_ , I’ll do it, okay? Unbreakable Vow or not, you’re right. This could be it. So I’ll help. Okay?” 

“You’re serious?” Regulus asked, his face lighting up. And when Lily’s eyes unconsciously flickered to where Sirius lay, both of them couldn’t help but crack a smile. “I can’t believe I let that one slip,” he grinned, “Thought I would have learned by now, yeah?” 

“Out of practice is all,” Lily smiled back, before hitching her thumb at the inert body in question, “Now, the real question is: what do I do with him? What am I supposed to tell him?” 

“I – shit, I don’t know,” he said, rubbing his hands on his trousers in a nervous gesture, “You can’t let him know you talked to me, alright? He wouldn’t believe that I’m on his side and would hunt me down, I swear.” 

On the one hand, Lily thought that might be a bit of an exaggeration on Regulus’s part. On the other, she had seen firsthand how long he could hold a grudge. And the grudge against his family, well, that ran far deeper than was healthy. 

“Yeah, Sirius can know nothing, plus I don’t fancy going into a coma and all that,” Lily replied, giving Regulus a pointed look, “I would try to alter his memory or something but I don’t think I want to risk that.”

“I’m rubbish with Memory Charms,” Regulus agreed, “What about – okay this sounds kind of stupid but hear me out. What about if you pretend that I Stunned you, lay on the ground and all that. And then you can _enervate_ him and pretend you are both waking up at the same time, that I Stunned you both and then escaped. Would that work?” 

“That’s actually brilliant,” Lily replied in a surprised tone, “Stupid enough to work and all that. Elaborate excuses run in the family, do they?” She detected a hint of pride in the way his shoulders straightened up, and the way his chest puffed out just the tiniest bit. 

( _And it broke her heart a little because Merlin she could see it now, could see how much he loved and admired his brother, maybe even hero worshipped him, and Sirius would never know, would never share that brotherly bond again--)_

 _(And Lily Evans secretly made it her goal in life to reunite these two brothers again_.) 

“Okay then, you _enervate_ him and I’ll disappear for a few hours. Try and keep him out of my room, yeah? That’s where I’m keeping all of my, erm, research,” he told her, “What were you here for, anyways?” 

“Curiously enough I was looking for some books on Dark Magic,” she replied, “Maybe you could show me which ones you’d be willing to give up? And we could place them somewhere convenient to find. I’m sure Sirius won’t want to stick around long once he’s come to anyways, but he still won’t want to leave emptyhanded.” 

So the two of them scoured the townhouse, looking for books that vaguely fell into the realm of dark curses (of which they were, unsurprisingly, an incredible amount) and piling them all into the bookshelf closest to the front entrance. 

(And Lily was surprised by how pleasant it all was, the easy way their conversation flowed, the excitement of shared scholarly fascination and new discoveries, surprised by how fast the time seemed to go, surprised by her regret as they returned to the front entrance again.) 

“So, how am I supposed to contact you? You know, to set up when we are, erm, going to work together again?” Regulus asked, nervously shoving his hands into his pockets. 

“Here,” she said, hastily scrawling an address on a spare piece of parchment using a handy ballpoint pen, “This is kind of a mail drop-off for me. An old shack, used it when I was undercover to exchange messages. It should still work, I think, the owl will just drop it off in the living room. I’ll check the messages there weekly and we can plan something, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” he replied, visibly nervous again now that Lily was preparing to leave ( _and she wondered if he was worried that despite the Vow that she wouldn’t come back, that he would be left alone all over again_ ). 

“I’ll be back, Black, okay?” she said, touching his arm to reassure him. And, in the way his eyes widened at her touch and he ever so slightly jumped, Lily realized that it must have been a long time since he had any kind of positive human contact. “If I hadn’t already sworn, I would do it again. I’ll be back.” 

“Yeah,” he said again, hands nervously shoved in his pockets again, “Yeah, yeah. I’ll owl you, yeah.” 

“Now you have to go,” she reminded him gently, gesturing at Sirius, “So that I can wake up this big lug and we can all get out of here alive.” 

“Right,” he said again, starting to walk towards the door so he could apparate away from the townhouse. But he stopped, and turned on his heel to face her. “Evans?” he said, “Thanks, y’know, for everything. That was a dirty trick I played, and I’m sorry about that, but I’m glad it made you stay.” 

And Lily looked at Regulus and saw not a young man, but the broken second year she had found during one of her Prefect rounds, crying on the stairs after a nasty Howler from his parents. He was still there, that battered ghost of a child, and she felt her heart reach out to him the way it had that day. 

“Me too, Black,” she said with a slight smile, before messily laying down next to Sirius, “Now get out of here, yeah?’ 

“Bye, Lily,” Regulus said, turning back on his heel and bustling out of the townhouse. 

As she heard the front door close, Lily let out a deep breath. She felt a pressure in her head like an oncoming migraine, the kind that happens when you experience such an overwhelming information dump and your brain is trying to stretch itself to the limit just to fit it all in. Because _fuck_ , what had just happened? What was she getting herself into? She had just gotten out of one dark undercover scheme, barely gotten out alive in fact, and now she had thrown herself into another? 

Not that she had the choice, of course. There _was_ the Unbreakable Vow, or at least the threat of some mangled version of it, hanging over her. 

But that wasn’t necessarily true, not the whole truth at least. Because if Lily was being truly honest with herself, she probably would have agreed to it all in the end anyways. 

Maybe it was her noble Gryffindor side, maybe the curious scholar. Maybe she was a masochist, looking for the quickest route to self-destruction. 

Either way this was a challenge, an intense, world-changing puzzle, and the thought of it caused Lily’s adrenaline to spike, her heart to speed up. Fuck if she wasn’t excited about it all, the mystery that only she could solve.

( _Okay, maybe it had a little to do with her ego, too_.) 

Lily was already thinking of all the possibilities of Voldemort’s quest for immortality, all the ancient texts she needed to read and what she wanted to show to Regulus, her mind racing ahead of her the way it did when she was caught on an idea, and she was only absently paying attention to the spell as she whispered: 

“ _Enervate.”_


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends! I hope all of you had a great holiday, and welcome to the new year! I got lucky and found a bit of time and was able to whip this one out. A relatively quick update, my belated Christmas gift to you! Now this chapter is A LOT so sorry if this was just an information dump but honestly I loved writing it so sorry not sorry? The upcoming chapters are only going to continue to be a lot, too, so I have officially been asked to give an angst warning in advance. Ashley, I rate this 3.5/10 so you are safe to read in public places! (Except there's a little bit of smut, so beware of that my friends.) I love ALL of you who have given me so much love and support over this story, honestly it has motivated me so much the past few weeks and I've gotten so much writing done! Let me know what you think of this chapter, thank loves!

27.

 

Lily was slowly losing her mind.

Or rather, her mind was being stretched in so many different directions at the moment that it felt like it was going to snap, the threads of her mind unspooling until they lay in a heap of useless mush. Yes, as she ran through three different layers of spell theory and tried to recall the exact wording of a certain text she’d read five days prior, all the while trying to pay attention to the Order meeting she was currently attending, that’s exactly what her brain felt like: useless mush. 

First there was the Sirius thing. Ever since the encounter with Regulus at 12 Grimmauld Place, Sirius had thrown himself into, well, just about everything. He was always running off on the most dangerous of missions, and had volunteered to train all of the new, fresh-out-of-Hogwarts recruits, throwing himself into vigorous mock-battles and intense duels. In whatever spare time he had he was in the library, researching dark curses and ways to counter them. It was like Sirius was trying to one-up his brother, to get his revenge on his entire family by bringing down the Death Eaters all by himself.

All in all, it was driving Lily mad. 

See, she now spent half of her day trying to keep Sirius from accidentally killing himself. After she had told them about what occurred at his former home, the rest of the Marauders had agreed with her that Sirius needed to be on a twenty-four-hour watch. They knew far better than Lily how reckless and self-destructive he could be after an incident with his family, and so they teamed up to keep him out of as much trouble as they possibly could (although, in the end, it mostly resulted in them accompanying him on whatever mad adventure he had chosen as his new suicide mission). 

Going right along with all that madness was Lily’s own research into dark curses and the like. She had found an ancient text, written in actual fucking Sumerian of all things, that hinted at the origins of the Unforgivable curses. The translation was going slow as shit, but the things she was learning, well, they were dark and ugly and gave her nightmares but she was finally understanding the mechanics of these curses, where they came from in the soul and what made them tick, and she felt closer than ever to finding a way to protect against, hell, even to counter them. The implications behind this discovery were _incredible_ , the ability to protect against any attempt at being _imperio’d_ , a cure to heal the minds of those driven mad by an extended exposure to the Cruciatus. It was all there, locked inside those books, the answer to questions Lily hadn’t even known she had. 

James had to drag her away from her stacks of books every night to go to bed. 

Then, of course, there was the Regulus thing. Lily, still pissed off beyond belief that the other Black had played such a dirty trick ( _especially when she would have been perfectly willing to help him either way, the idiot)_ and had avoided going to the abandoned shack outside of Blackpool that she used as a mailbox simply out of spite. But eventually she allowed herself to grow up and move past it because there were some things more important than her wounded feelings (irritating as it was to admit).

Regulus had seemed so relieved when she showed up at 12 Grimmauld Place for the first time a week later, like he hadn’t truly believed she would come back. He had nervously stumbled over his feet and his words, trying to play the perfect host as if to make it up to her. 

Lily had told him to fuck off and get to work. 

Things had run smoothly after that; it seemed Regulus had spent his time with his nose buried in a book nearly as much as she had, and they were able to keep up a steady stream of scholarly conversation at a prodigious pace ( _making Lily feel nauseatingly swotty)_. 

“Mother and Father, the other Slytherins, they didn’t bother me as much when I was reading,” he explained to her, “Particularly if they were books on Dark magic.” 

(So at least she wasn’t as swotty as Regulus, although that revelation surprisingly did not help much.) 

However, despite their impressive combined backgrounds of spell theory and history of magic, when it came to potential theories on the source of Voldemort’s immortality, they were draw an alarming blank.

“Well, there’s always the Philosopher’s Stone,” Regulus suggested during their third brainstorming session sometime in late November. Lily had just chucked a book against the wall and was currently laying on the floor loudly groaning. “It’s been keeping Nicholas Flamel alive for what, centuries?” 

“Exactly,” Lily replied testily, “We would have heard if the Stone had been stolen because old Flamel would suddenly die. Even as shit as the Prophet is right now that’s still newsworthy.” 

She had left that day, no closer to Voldemort’s than when she had first run into Regulus on Halloween night. 

A hand brushed across Lily’s thigh, playing with the ends of her old school skirt, startling her out of her reverie and back to the present, every single molecule of her now focusing solely on the way those fingers ghosted against her skin. And Lily was reminded of the final thread that was constantly pulling at her mind: _James._

 

* * *

 

James’s palms were sweating.

He was trying to listen to what was being said in the meeting because he knew that it was an important report and that he would be asked to come up with a reply to it eventually, but at the moment his brain had effectively shut down. 

It was all because of that damn skirt. 

Lily had been running late to the meeting, slamming into their room five minutes before the apparition window into Hogwarts for the Order meeting was closing, covered in some foul-smelling purple goo that was obviously an experiment of hers gone wrong. He had waited patiently (albeit with plenty of exaggerated whingeing as James was usually the one running late and Lily always gave him shit about it) as she cleaned herself up in the bathroom and swapped her clothing for something less goopy, when she dashed out of the bathroom, pulling him behind her as she ran through the Safe House to the apparition point outside. 

And she’d been wearing _that skirt_. 

It was her old school skirt, except she had grown since she’d last worn it and suddenly what had been an average and modest school uniform suddenly looked very, _very_ short. She had paired it with one of his jumpers (stolen it, he might add) and so the skirt barely peeked out underneath and overall it made James’s head go a bit fuzzy.

Apparently James had made some sort of gargled noise in response to her appearance because she called over her shoulder, “Laundry day, all that was available!” before pulling him into the alleyway and apparating them to Hogwarts. 

(Before they disappeared, though, he could have sworn he saw her _smirk_.) 

And now they were sitting in the Headmaster’s office for the Order meeting, and she was wearing _that skirt_ and, just like all of those Heads meetings they had sat through all of those years ago, James was getting caught up in thoughts he should most definitely _not be having_ in front of the Headmaster, thoughts of those long, long legs and what lay under _that skirt_. 

Lily, in the seat next to him, crossed her legs, the skirt riding up several more inches to reveal even more of her smooth, pale skin. He caught himself staring and tried to tear his eyes away, wiping his sweaty palms on his trousers and trying to think of anything except _that skirt_. This was the _Order_ , it was _important_ , and he was _a professional_ , after all. He was the bloody Head of Mission Operations and he needed to have a well-thought-out response to…whatever the hell Gideon Prewett was blathering on about at the moment. 

Lily looked over at him covertly and, noticing where his eyes were still fixated ( _dammit look away)_ gave him an almost imperceptible smirk before turning back to pay attention to Prewett’s report and it dawned on him: _fuck, she had done it on purpose!_  

“Mister Potter?” James realized belatedly that Dumbledore had been asking him a question. “Are you feeling okay, Mister Potter?” 

“Yes, Potter, you’re looking a bit flushed,” Lily agreed, that tiny smirk twisting her lips again (and he heard Sirius let out a snort behind him, the bloody traitor). 

“Just fine, Professor,” James ground out, shooting the redhead a glare (and kicking the seat of Remus in front of him, whose shoulders were shaking in repressed laughter), “What was it you were asking about again?”

“I was just confirming that you agreed with Mister Prewett’s assessment of the situation in Belfast,” Dumbledore repeated, a sparkle in his eye as he glanced back and forth between the two of them (and a few other titters passed around the room). 

Thank Merlin he had read Gideon’s reports only yesterday and knew the general gist of what was going on. “Yes, Professor, I agree with Prewett completely,” James replied, shooting a smug grin at Lily, who was trying to look as innocent as possible even as she hid her disappointment, “Send in a few small units and evacuate as quickly as possible, he’s definitely got the right of it.” 

“Excellent,” Dumbledore said, clapping his hands together, “We will begin to set these plans in motion, then. I believe Miss MacDonald has an announcement to make, and then you are free to leave. Miss Evans, if I could have a word with you?” 

Even as the rest of his mates stayed behind to hear the announcement and socialize a bit, and Lily was kept by Dumbledore for what he was sure was another ridiculous secret mission, James could not get out of the packed office fast enough. See, a bit of a situation had arisen in his trouser area thanks to _that damn skirt_ , and that could become quite awkward for everyone involved in a tightly-packed room. 

In years gone by James might have retreated to his room for a bit of _personal_ time, his go-to cure back in the day for the Maypole (hard-ons caused by Lily were such a common occurrence for hormone-addled James of years four through seven that the other Marauders had actually given them their own name. There was a contest and everything for the best one; Marlene had been the judge as James had refused to talk to any of them at that point in time.) However, despite all the pain and heartache and dirty sexual fantasies _that skirt_ had drudged up, he reminded himself that he was currently living the best version of his life. 

So he leaned against the wall, mostly hidden in the shadow of a suit of armor, and waited. 

It was nearly five minutes until Lily finally made her way down the staircase, the rest of the Order having already slowly trickled by, and she nearly dropped her bag when she saw him waiting for her. Before she could react, or more likely make a run for it, he grabbed her wrist and drew her down the hallway. 

“What the hell, James!” she hissed as he led her down the hallway, “What are you doing?!” 

But he didn’t answer, instead shoving her into the broom closet that even now he remembered because _okay maybe he’d been a bit of a manwhore in school_ but at least that knowledge had come in handy now as pinned Lily against the wall, his hands on either side of her head as he leaned dangerously close. 

“Trying to make me look like a cock in front of Dumbledore and the Order, were you?” he drawled (trying to looking suave and just the slightest bit menacing even as his brain was shouting _that skirt that skirt that skirt_ ), “Quite the evil scheme for such a good little witch.” 

Lily rolled her eyes, seeming to ignore the precarious position she was in. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she told him snidely, “You do a bang up job of that all by yourself. Now why did you drag me here, exactly?” 

 _Fuck, did he love these cat and mouse games with her._ “You know why,” he replied huskily, leaning even closer, close enough to count those pale little freckles on the bridge of her nose. 

“Other than to hurl accusations at me?” she replied, trying to peer down her nose at him self-righteously, “I’m afraid I don’t. Enlighten me.” 

(Except her pupils had dilated and she was breathing faster.) 

(James noticed.) 

(The game was afoot.) 

And he crashed against her, his hands losing themselves in her hair as his lips moved against hers, plunging his tongue into her mouth. He grinned triumphantly against her lips when she matched the kiss with her own furious passion, bunching up the front of his shirt in her fists as she pulled him even closer, swirling her tongue around his and biting his lip. He ground the erection that he had been fighting since she first walked out in _that goddamn skirt_ against her, pinning her to the wall. 

He moved his lips to her the wide expanse of her neck, licking his way up the side before murmuring in her ear, “Are you ready to admit to your little scheme?” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she replied in what was a poor attempt at innocence as her voice was all high and breathy.

His hands stole under her skirt, grabbing her arse and lifting her slightly off her feet as he bucked his hips against her. “Does this jog your memory?” 

“So you’ve got a hard-on fantasizing about me,” she replied loftily (but he could see the mischief dancing in her eyes, damn it all), “Nothing new there.”

But he could see the mischief dancing in her eyes and _how had he gone so long without realizing how goddamn wonderful she was?_ And he almost lost it, falling to his nears and begging her to let him give her anything she wanted. 

But this was a game, and James hated to lose. 

So he stole her lips again in a searing kiss, while his hand snuck under her skirt ( _fuck fuck fuck if this wasn’t just about every dream he’d had for years_ ), fingers playing against her knickers. She let out a moan, quivering under the ghost of his touch. “Sure you don’t have anything to tell me, love?” 

“Nothing to confe- _oh_ ,” she gasped as his hand slipped into her knickers, fingers running over what James knew were _just_ the right spots to make her squirm, “Okay, so I wore the damn skirt.” 

James rewarded her by rubbing his thumb in slow, _slow_ circles ( _and the moans she made, Merlin it was going to do him in someday)_. “Care to tell me why?” 

“It-it was laundry day,” she choked out and _dammit she was stronger than he’d thought._

“Lily, love, I know you’re lying,” he murmured against her throat, his finger rubbing right around her entrance teasingly. 

And he could see her weakening, the way her eyes were fluttering and her legs were slightly shaking, and if he touched just _there-_  

“Okay, it was a bet,” she gasped finally, “The lads, they bet the skirt would drive you mad enough to, er, drench the Maypole but, listen James, _I_ believed in you, I did, I said you would only be distracted enough to zone out a bit-” 

“Traitors!” James shouted in outrage, stepping back from her as he threw his hands up, “Traitors, all of you!” 

“Oh come on, don’t be a bad sport, it was just a bit of fun,” Lily whined, and when James turned back to her he could see the way her cheeks were still flushed and her swollen lips were in a pot and her legs were pressed tight together and she just looked so _needy-_  

And an idea popped into his head. 

“Well, it seems like according to the rules of the bet, I technically won,” he drawled, prowling closer to her. She bit her lip and _shit shit shit keep it together okay_. Composing himself, he continued, “I think that means I win a prize, yes?” 

Lily almost looked like she was going to argue ( _stubborn witch_ ) but was silenced when he suddenly dropped to his knees in front of her, running his hands up and down her legs appreciatively. 

James was fascinated as he watched his hands run under _that skirt_ , remembering all of the times he had fantasized this very moment while staring at her in class, shagging her every way til Sunday as he sat through mind-numbing History of Magic lectures. Imagining crawling under the desk she was sitting at, kissing his way up her legs, disappearing under her skirt as she let out those _little_ _fucking whimpers…_  

And then it was there, really happening, that _whimper_ graces his ears outside of his little fantasy world because Lily was _really_ here in front of him and his hand was _really_ under her skirt and- 

Better yet, he had _really_ just won a bet. 

“My prize, right,” James reminded himself, before slyly looking up at the woman in front of him, “So I was thinking, it seems only right that I should be able to do everything that I was imagining doing during the meeting, yeah? Reward my _impressive_ self-restraint.” 

Lily hurriedly nodded in reply, grabbing his hand to press it more firmly against himself. 

James licked his lips and smirked. _That fucking skirt indeed_.

 

* * *

 

“I just shagged you in a broom closet,” Lily said in a distressed voice as they worked on straightening themselves up, “I went all seven years without having any broom closet related shenanigans and then, here I go, shagging you in a broom closet.” 

“We did more than shag, or have you already forgotten?” James reminded her smugly, “We can always do a quick refresher course if you need. And geez, Lily, I didn’t know you were so upset about it. What with the way you were moaning I thought you were more than a bit content-” He was interrupted by his sudden need to dodge a sponge being tossed at his head. He glared at the redheaded culprit before adding, “And anyways, if you didn’t want to get well and properly shagged you shouldn’t go about placing bets and wearing skirts like that when you _know_ what they do to me.” He gave the skirt in question another appreciative glance. 

“Well I didn’t _know_ until today, not for sure,” Lily replied primly, “That was the whole point of the bet you see, testing a working theory.” 

James rolled his eyes at her dramatically. “Bullshit, utter bullshit,” he muttered, “Anyways, aren’t you supposed to be somewhere? I thought I heard something along those lines in between the pants and ‘oh please James _take me_!” He did the last part in a high falsetto, and in return had to dodge another sponge. 

“Shit, you’re right though,” Lily replied, glancing at her watch and humming with distress, “And at this rate I’m going to miss the party _completely_.” 

“Party? What party?” James asked, confused. 

“Weren’t you listening at all?” she sighed, exasperated, “The announcement Mary made? Ring any bells?” 

“I, erm, left before the announcement,” he replied embarassedly, “Things were getting a bit tight in the southern regions, if you catch my drift.” 

“The Maypole making a surprise appearance, eh?” Lily asked, her eyes glittering with gleeful mischief, “The lads told me all about that nickname.” 

“That’s it!” James shouted, throwing his hands into the air, “It’s official! I need new mates!” 

“Shh, don’t blame them, they just like me more,” she said, teasingly shoving with her shoulder, “Anyways, the announcement? Mary got engaged! How fabulous is that? They’re having an engagement party at the Safe House after the meeting!” 

“Really?” James asked dubiously, “I didn’t even know she was dating anyone.” 

“You are so oblivious sometimes,” she said with a roll of her eyes, “But it’s really sweet, actually, their story. Do you remember that werewolf attack on the Muggle town, Meriden I think it was, where they went after all of those kids? Mary helped a lot with the patients and their parents, explaining to them the process of the transformation, giving them as many support tools as possible. I guess she got really close to one of the families, the Clarksons. He’s a single dad, Miles, and the son is Terry, I think he’s about three now, he’s the one that got bit, poor dear. She and Miles officially started dating a couple of months ago but I swear it was love at first sight, you should have seen them.” Lily told him, one of those dreamy, romantic smiles on her face. 

“Merlin, isn’t she a bit young to be getting married?” James asked, eyebrows raised. 

“She’s only a year younger than us,” Lily said with a shrug, “And it’s war time, after all. People are getting hitched left and right.” 

For some reason the thought of this made James’s palms begin to sweat again. _Since when had they reached the age where their friends were getting married?_ “Erm, right, congratulations to her and all that,” he mumbled uncomfortably before changing the subject, “So, what was it Dumbledore wanted to talk to you about?” 

“Oh, well, he just wanted me to check in on an old friend,” she said, blushing visibly, “See if I can talk them into having them and their, erm, _family_ join the war effort.” 

“If it’s just an old friend, why’re you acting so shady about it?” James questioned her, “It’s not an ex, is it? I swear to Merlin if it’s Collin Davies I’ll-” 

“Really, James? An ex-boyfriend? _That’s_ what gets your knickers in a twist these days?” Lily replied with a roll of her eyes. 

“Then what is it, then? Spit it out!” 

“It’s just a little embarrassing, okay?” she said defensively, before apparently plucking up the courage to continue, “Okay, well, I’m not sure how much you remember but my first year at Hogwarts was pretty rough, to say the least. I was definitely _not_ prepared for all of the anti-Muggleborn sentiment and, well, I didn’t handle it very well, did I? Lots of yelling and accidental magic and all that, got more detentions in my first year than the last six combined.”

“Glorious days, those were,” James said wistfully. 

“Shut up,” Lily said with a roll of her eyes, “Anyways, the older Slytherins, they thought that my reactions were funny so they began to target me especially. One day when I was coming back from Herbology they started chasing me, acting like they were going to curse me or something, so I ran. Ran all the way straight into the Forbidden Forest, in fact, I was so terrified. Needless to say I got lost pretty quickly. It got dark out, and I was certain that I was going to be eaten by a werewolf or something like that.” 

They gave each other knowing smiles at that. “How did you get out, then?” James asked. 

“I ran into someone else who had been run off by the older and meaner bits of their group,” she said, a nostalgic smile quirking her lips, “A centaur named Firenze. He was young, too, a teenager in centaur years. Firenze has always been fascinated by the human world. He thought that if wizards and centaurs could work together, by sharing all of their knowledge they could unlock the secrets of the universe.” Her smile turned sad. “He was always a bit of a radical thinker, that Firenze. Bullied quite a bit by the other centaurs for it, too. We both felt quite alone in our little worlds. That’s how we became friends.” 

“So that’s who you’re going to see now? A _centaur_?” James asked, his eyes wide. See, the Marauders did not have the best experience with the centaur herd inhabiting the Forbidden Forest. Centaurs are very territorial creatures, and particularly do not like when wizards try to encroach on their land. They had always been able to tell that the stag, dog, and rat running around their forest were not truly meant to be there, and James had suffered more than one black eyes from their hooves during the scuffles they got into on full moon nights.

“Got something against centaurs, have you?” Lily asked sharply, rounding on him. ( _No, but they’ve got something against me_ , James thought, wisely keeping it to himself.) “I’ll have you know that Firenze has been a great friend to me over the years. He’s been there for me during many tight spots, and is just about the only reason I didn’t fail Divination and Astronomy.” 

“Okay, okay,” James replied, holding up his hands in mock surrender, “So we go and see Firenze.” 

“We?” she asked him as they reached the Entrance Hall doors, pushing them open to step out under the great expanse of the night sky, “Since when has thing been a duo mission?” 

“My girlfriend is secret best friends with a centaur,” James told her with a cheeky grin, “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

 

* * *

 

The two of them barely had to pass through the first line of tress of the patch of Forbidden Forest behind Hagrid’s Hut before they found what they were looking for. In the amber light of the setting sun trickling through the branches of the tress, James saw a strikingly handsome young centaur. All white blonde hair and palomino fur, adorned with astonishingly blue eyes, made him a wonder to look at.

To James, this told him a lot about the creature. See, despite their ethereal representations in Muggle, and even some wizarding lore, he had found centaurs to, as a whole, be quite an ugly bunch. Now, this didn’t mean that they were naturally unattractive. On the contrary; all of the young foals that the Marauders had come across were exceptionally beautiful. The thing was, centaurs were a rough and tumble sort. Their faces, skin, and hides acquired scars, burns, and general disfigurements through their war games and encounters with the other nasty creatures that hid within the forest. The more bends in one’s nose the better; it just went to show how strong of a warrior you were. 

This centaur’s unbroken skin, along with the straight line of his nose, told James that, to quote the Muggles, he was apparently a lover, not a fighter.

“Lily Potter,” Firenze called out to them warmly, and James nearly shit his pants. 

 _(What the fuck wait did we get married and I didn’t notice I haven’t even bought a ring I would have noticed wouldn’t I shit shit shit did Sirius drug me with some of those ‘magical mushrooms’ again or is this another one of those dreams and I’m only wearing my underwear FUCK Lily Potter sounds so good shit shit shit what is happening-)_  

“Bloody hell, I forgot he called me that,” Lily muttered under her breath to him, her face turning a deep red, “I’ve corrected him over a hundred times but he’s always called me that, since the first time we met. No idea why, the tosser.” She turned her eyes to the centaur now, calling out in greeting, “Evening, Firenze! And it’s Evans, remember?” 

“Is it really?” Firenze asked them, genuine confusion crossing his face, “It’s been quite some time, these things tend to escape me.” 

“It’s okay, Firenze,” she said with a smile, “It’s just nice to see you again. May I introduce to you James Potter? He is my, erm, escort out into the forest tonight. Can’t be too careful, right?” 

“James Potter,” the centaur said, solemnly bowing his head in greeting, “I wondered when I would have the pleasure of meeting you.”

“Er, likewise, I suppose,” James replied nervously, nodding back. He was getting the same unnerving feeling that he got around Ellie, like the other knew more about James that James himself. Also, he was still half expecting the creature to kick him at any moment.

“So, how’s the family?” Lily asked Firenze, sitting down on a fallen log and regarding the centaur with a familiarity that James just never thought he would get over. _Only Lily would befriend a fucking centaur…_

Firenze, on his part, sighed and rolled his eyes to the sky in exasperation (an incredibly human gesture that looked a bit odd on the magical creature), saying, “Well, you know mother…” 

James went on to listen to possibly the strangest conversation of his life. Firenze complained about how his mother was forcing him to compete in their family reunion’s war games this year after she had berated him for a good hour on his lack of wounds, saying that no female would ever look his way with that “pasty foal-skin” of his and that she would be damned if she died before she had any grandfoals. Lily advised him to stand up to his mother (a piece of advice that had apparently been given many times before, judging by his sigh) and reminded him not to settle for a mare that wouldn’t take him as he is. 

“You are the most talented Astronomer I’ve ever met, Firenze, and one of the best Diviners,” Lily told him, “If a mare can’t recognize your worth, then she isn’t worth shit.”

Firenze nodded and sighed again. “Well, as much as I always value your input on my love life,” the centaur said with a wry smile, “I divine that this is not exactly the conversation that Dumbledore called this meeting for.”

“Oh yeah, right,” Lily acknowledged with a chuckle, before turning serious, “Now Firenze, I am almost certain you know what I’m about to say but I beg you, keep an open mind, yeah?”

“I shall try, Lily Potter,” Firenze told her solemnly (and Lily and James simultaneously turned bright red, purposefully not looking at the other). 

“Riiiight,” Lily said, drawing out the word as if she didn’t want to begin, “Well, I’m not sure how up-to-date you are on the happenings of the wizarding world, but there is a war going on, a bad one.” 

“Yes, we have all felt the shift in the universe, the clash between good and evil,” Firenze nodded. 

“So you know the magnitude of it then,” she replied, an urgent undertone to her otherwise steady voice, “Firenze, it’s bad out there and, shit, we’re _losing_ right now. And what Voldemort, the Dark side, what they have planned for the wizards, the Muggles, even all of the magical creatures, it spells disaster for us all.” She looked at him pleadingly, “We _need_ the centaurs help.” 

Firenze shifted uncomfortably now. “You know my herd’s, even the centaurs as a species, history with wizarding kind,” he said, a harsher edge to his voice than he had used all night, “It is true I have always had a fascination with humans, and treasure our friendship especially, but even I can hardly see the motivation for going to war for a species that despise us.” 

“I know they’ve been terrible to you, Firenze,” Lily said in a small voice, rising to her feet to place a hand on the centaur’s flank, a gesture that showed that she shared in his pain. 

James suddenly felt a wave of shame wash over him. He hadn’t really thought much about asking the centaurs for help. He was distracted by Lily in all of her Lily-ness, and so he had only spared the upcoming meeting a fleeting thought: either the centaurs helped and they had more soldiers, or they refused and they were assholes. He had completely forgotten to think of them as real beings, beings with a rich culture and a history of oppression by humans like himself. Centaurs were footnotes in History of Magic, a nuisance as the wizards tried to hide from the Muggles, making the Ministry resort to finding different forests where they could stuff the creatures to hide them away.   

But James was beginning to realize that centaurs were just as sentient, just as thoughtful, just as _emotional_ as he was.

And he felt his entire world shift, ever so slightly. 

Amongst James’s abrupt and painful realization about his own closed-off mind, it seemed that Lily and Firenze had come to a stand-off in their conversation. 

“I apologize, Lily Potter, but the centaurs will not aid in the war, not this one,” Firenze replied, sorrow in his eyes even as his voice held a note of finality, “The path of the First Wizarding War has already been paved, and the herd has no part in it.”

“Can you see it, Firenze? Can you see what is going to happen, how it will end?” Lily asked, suddenly sounding desperate, “Can you at least tell me that much?” 

“There is a crossroads coming…” the centaur said, eyes raised through the branches of the trees to the milky swathe of stars in the sky, “But it is too vague for me to see what will happen next.” He looked back down at Lily, and James could see a shining, like tears, in his startling blue eyes. “I felt the essence of your fate the first time I met you, you know. It shines brighter than anything I have ever seen. Truly beautiful.” He gave her a sad smile, “And now I fear it is time to say goodbye.” 

“So soon, Firenze?” Lily replied, surprise widening her eyes. 

 _(And as James shared a look with the centaur, he understood that she was missing it, what he was trying to say. This was a different kind of goodbye.)_  

James could see the pain in Firenze’s eyes, and suddenly felt a small kinship with him. The centaur knew something, something that would only cause Lily pain, and he was desperate to keep it from her. 

So James stepped in, taking Lily’s hand and reminding her, “We have Mary’s party to get to so we better be off too, right?” 

“You’re right,” she told him, sighing as she prepared to turn back towards the castle. Suddenly, though, she flung herself into an incredibly surprised Firenze’s arms. “Stay safe, okay?” she whispered as she hugged him, “I’ll miss you. Goodbye Firenze.” She took James’s hand again, and he could tell that she was a bit shaken by the meeting as she began to lead them away. 

James once again saw that tell-tale glimmer in the centaur’s eyes as Firenze raised his hand towards their retreating figures, calling out, “Goodbye, Lily Potter.”

  

* * *

 

Predictably, they were late to the party. In fact, the pub was nearly cleared out by the time they got back to the Safe House, only the Marauders, Dorcas, and Ellie remaining to clean up the mess. Apparently Mary, Miles, and Terry had left fifteen minutes earlier, as it was quite past little Terry’s bedtime.

“And where have you two been?” Sirius asked in a suggestive tone, “Fulfilling some of James’s old school days fantasies?" 

“Little over-interested in my sex life, eh Pads?” James shot back, “Although I hear that’s the ten galleon question.”

Sirius’s gaze switched to Lily, and he narrowed his eyes into a glare. “You _told_ him?” he accused.

Lily shrugged, unbothered by the sour looks the other Marauders were giving her because really, no matter how the bet went she was the real winner here, and she wasn’t about to let some sore losers ruin her post-shag glow. 

( _And her post-shag blank mind, the stress released from her shoulders, her ability to breathe returned, she should really keep James on retainer or something…)_

They were interrupted from the settling of the bet, however, by a sudden indignant huff from Ellie. “You were seeing _him_ weren’t you, Lily?” she asked with a sour look, “Are we really so deep in the hole that Dumbledore is calling on pretentious nonbelievers like him?”

Lily almost laughed at the reaction of everyone else in the room, staggered by the whiplash change in conversation. Because she had always enjoyed Ellie’s logic, the way it wound in ways so much different from their own. To the blonde, picking up this conversation at this _exact_ point in time made all the sense in the world.

“You’re just bitter that Firenze helped me get a better score on the Divination exam fourth year,” Lily shot back with a smirk. Ellie glared and stuck out her tongue. “And it’s none of your business, but yes, I was talking to him.” She sighed sadly and _fuck that didn’t last long_ because the weight of her thoughts, the crazy way time seemed to be moving too fast towards some fixed point she didn’t understand, all of it was back. “Didn’t get anywhere, though,” she added defeatedly.

Lily was thankful that James, _her perfect beautiful lovely James_ , could read her so well. She knew he felt it, maybe even just from the weight of her hand in his, that she was suddenly _so_ _tired_. And he redirected the conversation, demanding a retelling from the crowd of all that had occurred at the party. 

He let her drift away, over to the back kitchen where she used the monotous chore of washing dishes by hand to clear her mind. Something about the conversation with Firenze had left her exhausted. There had just been something in his tone, something in the way he looked at her, that had made every word he was saying feel _monumental_. She felt like she had glimpsed into a vast, complicated truth that was not meant for the likes of her, glimpsed at that sense of being that ran beneath the surface of all beings, a shadow of life. 

Through Firenze’s words she had, for even the smallest of moments, had a glimpse into fate, and it was going to swallow her alive. 

Lily wasn’t sure whether she was thankful when Remus interrupted her thoughts with a tactful clearing of his throat, or if she dreaded what was inevitably going to be another weighty interaction. Maybe she had spent too much time with centaurs and Seers, but she had a bad feeling about the look on Remus’s face. 

“Come here,” she told him tiredly, gesturing for him to come and stand next to her. Curious, Remus came to her side, and she leaned her head against his arm, burrowing herself into his side even as she continued to wash the dishes. “There,” she told him, “I’m all comfy now, go ahead and unburden yourself.” 

Remus laughed, but she could hear the strain even in what was meant to be a joyful sound. “Dumbledore asked me to go to the werewolf packs,” he told her, and Lily was momentarily startled by the confession. _Jumping right in, I suppose,_ she thought resignedly. Remus continued, “He wants me to try and convince them not to join Voldemort, spy on them, that kind of thing.” 

Lily abruptly froze. “Oh shit,” she said quietly, the words hanging in the air. 

“Yeah,” he chuckled darkly, self-deprecatingly, tiredly, “Oh shit.” 

 _A kindred spirit_ , Lily thought sadly as she felt the way the werewolf slumped slightly into her, as if just admitting this out loud had taken away his strength. “So what are you going to do?” she asked. 

“I really don’t know,” he confided, “The lads, they’re all for it. Says it’s worth the risk if it keeps more werewolves out of Voldemort’s hands. I think Sirius would almost ask me to bite him so he could do it himself, the way he’s been throwing himself into ‘adventures’.” He said the last word with a heavy dose of sarcasm. 

“But you don’t want to go,” Lily stated, reading the heaviness in his movements, as if he was already trying to delay the inevitable. 

“No, I don’t,” Remus said, and he looked down at her quickly with his eyes wide, as if he was surprised by the confession. Then his expression grew pained. “It’s just, it’s like this, right?” he continued, “The Order, Dumbledore, they go on and on about how they don’t want the werewolves to join Voldemort. But do they ever ask about them joining _us_? About us protecting and helping them?” He let out a heavy sigh. “It’s not like any of us chose this, right? The werewolves? None of us asked to be bitten, yet we’re treated like some villain rather than what we are, a victim of a disgusting crime. Sometimes,” and he paused at this, like he was afraid to continue, “Sometimes it feels like all wizards, even the Order, see creatures like werewolves as inherently evil. They just see me as some kind of exception to the rule.” 

“Wizarding society ignores you because it’s the easy thing to do,” Lily acknowledged sadly, “And Voldemort offers them the world.” 

“So why would they fight for us?” Remus asked, and she felt him trembling as he said in a small voice, “I’m afraid, Lily. I’m afraid that I will fight in this war, and that I’ll live. That I’ll live to see _nothing_ change.” 

 Lily pulled him into a tight hug, pressing her face against his chest so that she wouldn’t see the tears rolling down his face, the tears dear, stoic Remus would hate for her to see. “You don’t have to do it,” she said, “No matter what anyone says, Remus, the choice is yours alone. And I’ve been in similar shoes, going off undercover when you’re still feeling that _hurt_ from the people you’re supposed to be fighting for. It can do things to you. Hell, it almost _broke_ me. You can say no.” 

“Does that make me a coward?” Remus asked, his voice slightly cracking. 

Lily felt a flare of anger at that. “Look at me now, Remus Lupin,” she told him sharply, pulling back so she could grab his face in both of her hands, looking him square in the eye, “You are one of the _bravest_ men I know. Just by carrying the burden that you do on your shoulders every single day you show a strength that few people on this earth possess. _Never_ let anyone call you a coward, _ever._ ” Seeing that he was close to breaking under the weight of that very burden, she said in a lighter tone, “Or I’ll have to kick their ass, yeah?” 

Remus cracked a smile, albeit a shaky one. “Yeah,” he agreed. 

“Good,” she said, letting go of him, “Now make yourself useful and try these dishes for me, will you?” And he laughed at her, joining her in a companionable silence, drying dishes slowly and methodically as they both thought their conversation through. 

(Even as Lily felt the knots in her mind wind ever tighter.)


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends! This chapter is dedicated to Melina, Mal, and Ashley for listening to me complain endlessly about my painful writer's block with this chapter. Happy early birthday, as well, to Melina, who is pretty much my soulmate. Ashley, I'd give this a 7.5/10 on the angst scale so beware (somewhat). Also, all my love to Marie for making #justiceformittens a thing and reminding me that the kitten was way overdue for a cameo. All of you readers bring meaning into my life! Leave a review to make my day, or find me on tumblr (a-collection-of-nonsense) and become my best friend! 
> 
> P.S. Question time: I have a couple of other multi-chapters in the works, would you guys rather I finish this fic first before posting anything else, or post the other fics as I go even though the updates might be a long time coming?

28.

 

This year there were no wreaths on doorways, no garland lining the stairs. No twinkling lights adorned fir trees and no mistletoe hung from the door, catching young couples unaware. Gifts were not bought, wrapped, nor exchanged. Carols were not sung and bells went unrung.

This year, this Christmas Eve, it was like the entire wizarding community was holding its breath, hoping beyond hope that there would not be another Sancta Nox, that they would make it through the night unscathed.

James Potter sat on the staircase of an old beaten-down home, one of the Safe Houses where they kept young orphans in transit to their new foster homes overseas. A Gobstones tournament was being held amongst the older children, while the youngsters began to nod off on the lumpy denim couch in front of the cozy fireplace. Every once in a while James saw a smile, even heard a laugh, but there was a heaviness inside of the room that was palpable. He tried not to think about how many of the children in this room were orphans one year to this very day. 

He tried, as well, not to think of the many people he had lost in the last year. Not to think about the loss of that innocent happiness from last Christmas, cartons of Chinese food discarded in an apartment full of laughter.

( _Because it hurt knowing that particular brand of happiness would never be his again, not with so many faces missing.)_  

Instead, he tried to cling to the people he still had in his life, the ones who kept him moving forward even in these darkest of nights. In particular, he thought of a certain redhead.

And as he thought of her, he couldn’t help but play with the little velvet box that sat in his pocket.

He had gotten it the day after he had met the centaur, Firenze, somehow found himself apparating to a shopping district in Muggle London that Marlene had taken him to one time. ( _Another memory he tried to ignore this night, another smile and a laugh he couldn’t carry in his mind_ ). He walked in to the first jewelry shop he found, bought the first ring that looked half decent, and then apparated right back to Inverness.

It was a completely out of body experience.

James actually could hardly remember it, or maybe he was blocking it out because it was easier sometimes to pretend that the ring didn’t exist, that a certain question was not settling heavily on his shoulder. Merlin, he hadn’t even told the lads about it. They would either think he was dead serious or taking the mickey, and he wasn’t sure which one would be worse. Either way they would be brutal. James had asked himself more than once in the last two weeks if he had been possessed by something; that could be the only explanation for his impulsive madness. 

He supposed he _could_ possibly consider it a possession, how the moment he had heard Firenze say those words it was all he could hear, all he could think, a constant static humming in the back of his brain. 

 _Lily Potter Lily Potter Lily Potter…_  

Because hearing those two words had made James realize there was nothing in the entire world he wanted more than to make them a reality, to make Lily _his_ Lily, to have them unassailably bound together by what really was just a word but was somehow so much more. 

However, James was also a little chicken shit who hadn’t even been able to bring himself to open the damn box to look at the ring since the day he bought it because he just _knew_ he had terrible taste and that she would hate it and he just couldn’t bear to have his failure sparkling brazenly in his face. 

Anyways, it was too soon, wasn’t it? He wasn’t sure what he would even label them, boyfriend and girlfriend? Dating? It had all just snowballed so quickly, and James was only ninety-five percent sure that Lily didn’t still hate him. 

And to top it all off they were in the middle of the war. When were they supposed to find time for a wedding? Or just elope, like every other war couple out there? Would she think that he was only asking her because they could die tomorrow and why not? 

There was just no chance, not in a million years, that Lily Evans would say yes if he proposed. 

Still, there was that hum in the back of his mind ( _lilypotterlilypotterlilypotter_ ), and he couldn’t help but carry around that little velvet box with him everywhere he went, just in case.

  

* * *

 

 

It was Christmas Eve, and Lily was tired. 

She had just spent eight hours apparating all across Great Britain, checking the wards on various Safe Houses and family homes that were under Order protection and often adding a few extra spells of her own making, just in case. The Order of the Phoenix was determined to be prepared for Christmas this year, determined to not allow another massacre like Sancta Nox occur again. It wasn’t just that they couldn’t carry the weight of another such tragedy, although that was perfectly true; no, they also could just not afford to lose anymore witches and wizards on their side. 

It was something they didn’t talk about, the dwindling numbers. Whether it was due to death, people turning to the other side, or sometimes families just receding into the shadows and disappearing altogether, the number of fighters in the Order and its general network of Safe Houses and spies was getting dangerously low. 

So Lily had done her best to protect all of the houses, a heaviness settling in her bones with every spell she cast as she hugged the many families and wished them Happy Christmas, taking on the uneasy burden of their safety both in the magic pulsing in her veins and in her anxious heart. 

( _She couldn’t let them down, she couldn’t let them down, not this time…_ ) 

If she was being honest with herself, Lily was terrified. Terrified that it would be like last year, that her wards would fall and she would be crushed under their weight, slowly buried alive with all the bodies of the deaths her own weakness had caused. 

She had panic attacks the week leading up to Christmas. Every night she would wake up in a cold sweat and forget how to breathe, her mouth gasping for air but somehow taking nothing in. Her body would shake, spasms growing in her back and rolling outwards all the way to her fingers and toes. She would see black spots in her vision and wondered if tonight would be the night that she lost her grip on reality, that her fingers would scrabble uselessly against the ground as she was pulled into the stars. 

And then arms would come around her, holding her tight, absorbing the shock of her rattling bones so that her exhausted body didn’t have to. James grounded her, his feet so firmly planted on the earth that her lungs would suddenly bloom with air in relief that he was _there_ , he was _with her_ , and that he wouldn’t _ever_ let her go. James’s soothing hands running down her back as she remembered how to breathe again, wiping away tears she hadn’t realized had fallen, that was all that kept her sane that week. 

But James had the night watch in one of the Safe Houses and she couldn’t stand to just sit around, waiting to see if disaster struck. So, instead, Lily went in search of a distraction. 

Which was why she now sat in the living room of 12 Grimmauld Place, her eyelids drooping a little bit as she tried to decipher a text about the Cruciatus Curse written in old Chinese. 

“Lily, I really think-” 

“I swear to Merlin, Regulus, if you say virgin sacrifices one more time I will end you,” Lily deadpanned in reply, not even bothering to look up from her text even as the voice woke her up a bit, causing her to straighten her back and try to rub the sleep out of her eyes. 

Even though Lily felt a bit like punching the young wizard, she was glad she had come to visit the old Black family home that night. It hit her sometimes, out of the blue, of just how _young_ Regulus still was, only a year out of Hogwarts, and how devastatingly alone. Tonight was one of those times. 

It was the way the house was decorated for Christmas, clumsily but with an earnest effort that broke Lily’s heart. He was just trying _so hard_ , dammit, with every wreath hung on an old, decrepit door, every light he had magically ignited on the browning Christmas tree in the parlor, he was just trying so hard to turn this place that felt like a black hole, the way it sucked all the light out of the world, into something just the tiniest bit happy. The tiniest bit magical. 

Yes, even though he was an annoying, tunnel-visioned, often entitled little twit ( _the way she might describe a younger brother, but she tried her best not to think of him that way because it could only lead to trouble)_ , in the end she was glad she had come. 

“But the Aztecs, the Mayans, even that Countess from Slovakia all used virgin blood for their magic!” Regulus continued to argue, jamming his finger against the book in front of him as he tried to make his point, “There has to be something to it!”

“I’m pretty sure that was just something Muggles made up so they could do shitty things,” Lily replied unenthusiastically, tired of this argument (which they continued to have, as Regulus seemed unable to let the drama of the sacrifices go), “Trust me, they are particularly skilled at justifying treating other people terribly.” 

“You have to admit, though, it would be Moldy’s style,” he said begrudgingly, still unwilling to give in but perhaps _finally_ realizing that Lily had little to no interest in what he was saying. She did give him a snort of appreciative, though, for his use of the nickname they had given Voldemort. They had taken to playing a game, whenever morale got too low during their research sessions (which it almost always did, seeing as they had what felt like a Sisyphean task), of good insults and comebacks to use if they encountered different Voldemort, Death Eaters, and the like. Many, _many_ good nicknames had come of these games. 

“Any kind of killing is his style, the sick fuck,” Lily replied, and Regulus snickered (they had acquired a bit of graveyard humor, not too unexpected considering the subject material they were studying). She smiled wryly in return. 

And then felt her whole body clamp up as she _froze_. 

“So what-” 

“SHHHHH!” Lily hushed him, holding up a finger for silence. Her eyes were closed as her forehead scrunched deep in thought. “I think I have something.” 

Suddenly she was on her feet, running around the room, toppling their piles of books and kicking them across the carpet as she searched for a particular text. Her heart was pounding, pounding, _pounding…_  

 _This is it, this is it, this is it_ , Lily’s mind chanted in time with the beat. 

“Found it!” she finally called, dragging a big stack on manuscripts over to where Regulus sat ( _and her veins felt like they were on fire, adrenaline coursing through her because what if this was it?!_ ), “Here, it’s the first text ever written on the Avada Kedavra curse, written in fucking Sumerian it’s so old. I translated it a couple weeks ago when I first found it. Listen to this: ‘The act of performing the killing curse is so horrifying it wrenches the soul in two.’” She looked up at Regulus expectantly. 

“…So?” he asked, and his face had the look that Lily called ‘ _Pureblood Disdain_ ’, the look that said anything they did not understand was not worth their time. Lily tweaked Regulus’s nose and his expression briefly turned cross, before he rearranged his face into the more widely understood look of ‘puzzled’. (Lily was trying to train him on how to act like a normal person rather than an elitist; it was a work in progress.). “Anyways,” he said, rolling his eyes at her reverse-etiquette lessons, “We all know that killing someone is horrible, nothing terribly new there.” 

“No, no, you don’t get it,” Lily said, shaking her head in frustration, “What if the author meant that _literally_? That the soul was ripped into two pieces? What if somehow a person kept their soul in two different places?” 

Lily could see the exact moment the realization struck Regulus. His expression turned from confused to that of a lightbulb moment, before it dwarfed into sickened horror. “Bloody fucking hell,” he breathed, “You would have to destroy both pieces to kill him.” 

She nodded and there it was again, that heart pounding, because fucking _finally_ they were getting somewhere. “There has to be more on this elsewhere, I _swear_ I’ve seen a description like this before,” Lily told him, frantically shuffling through her own notes, “Keep looking!” 

It was right at that moment that she suddenly heard a muffled noise coming from her bag. 

“Shit, shit, shit, it’s the mirror,” Lily cursed as she grappled through her bag, “Reg, hide!” 

Regulus dove out of sight as she pulled the mirror from her bag. Before removing the mirror from the protective cloth it was currently draped in, Lily carefully crafted a relaxed smile on her face. Uncovering the mirror to find James’s face, she tried to slow her rapid-fire heartbeat as she said as casually as she could, “Hey love! What’s up?” 

“ _What’s up?_ ” James nearly spat from the other side of the mirror, and Lily cringed. _Shit shit shit_ , she thought, panicking. She hadn’t read his face, hadn’t really taken in his expression, or she would have acted differently, said something different. Because she could tell now, clear as day, that James, well, he was _frantic_. “I’ve been trying to reach you for nearly half an hour!” he continued, shouting through the mirror, “Nobody knew where you were! Where the hell are you?” 

“Really James, it’s fine, I was just out doing some research for, you know, my stuff. What’s going on?” she asked in reply, trying to keep her voice calm, steady, soothing. 

“It’s Mary,” he said, and the slight crack in his voice froze all the blood in Lily’s veins. Her heart might have stopped beating, she couldn’t hear her own pulse over the buzz that had taken up in her brain, a charging static that pulsed _not again not again not again this can’t be happening not again-_  

Over the white noise, Lily could just hear James saying, “You need to get back to the Safe House as soon as possible.”

 

* * *

  

It hadn’t been her wards; that was the only thing Lily could cling to right then, that at least _this_ time it hadn’t been her fault. That was the only thing that kept her from walking out the front door and just keep going, walking until her shoes wore out and she was far, far away from any world where these kind of horrible things happened. It amazed her sometimes, just how hard it was to be alive, to take each breath and live each moment. Sometimes she yearned for it all to just _stop_.

But Lily knew these were self-indulgent thoughts as she watched one of her best friends die. 

They had been on their way to attend a Christmas Eve candlelight service, the Clarksons and she. Mary, Miles, and Terry all bundled up like a proper family, walking down the snowy streets of their charming country neighborhood to the local church. 

The village the Clarksons had relocated to after the werewolf attack was so remote, the neighborhood so utterly Muggle, that no one had thought to worry. Sure, they had placed wards on their home, everyone did these days, but they hadn’t thought to stay in that night. Hadn’t thought to stay in hiding, that they were being hunted, closer to capture with each passing moment. 

The Order had known well enough that the werewolves under Voldemort’s control, under Fenrir Greyback’s leadership, were recruiting. This was, after all, why Dumbledore had approached Remus to go on that mad undercover mission. What they hadn’t known was the meticulousness in which the werewolves were carrying out this mission, tracking down each of their former victims to approach them about joining the cause. Not that they were truly asking; no, everyone knew this was the kind of conversation that included an offer you couldn’t refuse. 

But fuck, fuck, _fuck_ , no one had thought they would come after a four-year-old Terry Clarkson. 

Lily knew that it wouldn’t have even consciously crossed Mary’s mind, the choice to step in front of the boy she had all but adopted as her own. That’s just who she was, the way she poured herself out for others, the mother hen to everyone she came in contact with. 

And now she was pouring out in a new way, her blood staining the bandages that held the tatters of skin and flesh that had once been her chest together, life eking out of her eyes with each passing breath. Shouted curses and feral claws had torn her to ribbons, Mary just able to apparate her family away from the pack of hunting werewolves before she fell apart. 

The cuts were too deep, cursed with a magic unique to werewolves that was still so little understood that no matter the poultice applied or words murmured, the wounds would not close. 

So she bled. 

“Oh Lily, don’t cry,” were the first words Mary whispered as soon as the redhead entered the room; Lily hadn’t realized her cheeks were glistening with tears already. And those words, meant to comfort, only made Lily want to collapse in on herself because _Mary_ was the one dying here, yet she had the gall to try to ease the pain of those around her. 

It brought her to her knees. 

“Mary, Mary, Mary,” Lily whimpered into her friend’s side, her tears mixing with the blood weeping from her wounds, “This isn’t happening, can’t be happening…” 

“It’s okay love,” Mary whispered into the mess of crimson locks, her hands rubbing shaking shoulders, “It will all be over soon.” 

Lily had been bracing for it, another hurt, another loss, another broken heart. She knew it was inevitable in this war, that there were many more funerals to come. Like every other member of the Order she kept a set of black dress robes neatly pressed in her closet, ready at a moment’s notice. 

But for some reason she had never guessed it would be Mary. There was something so soft about her, so warm and grounded that it made her seem timeless. Lily had always felt like bombs could fall and wars could reign, but Mary would be there in the end to pick up the pieces of all those who remained. In all the worst case scenarios, Lily had never imagined having to watch another coffin be lowered into the ground without Mary by her side.

It was like that quote, that the world didn’t end with a bang but with a whimper. This night would not end in a blaze of glory. The world would not be set on fire with the passion of this death, and Mary’s name would not be used as a war cry before soldiers leapt into the throes of battle. There was no drama in this death, no raging fury in this room. 

It was soft and slow, the way the color in her cheeks faded in perfect juxtaposition to the deepening hue of the bloodstains on the sheets; it was in the weakening of the hand gripping hers, the slowing of her breath. 

“I love you, Mary,” Lily whispered, somehow knowing it would be the last time she would get to say those words, “You made this world brighter. Every single day you made this world brighter. Made _my_ world brighter.” 

“You’re going to have to love yourself some now, Lily,” Mary breathed back, “Since I’m not going to be around to do it for you. Okay?” 

Lily could only nod in return, lost at her friend’s soft and pleading words. 

Feet shuffled on the scuffed and scratched wooden floors of the room, and Lily was reminded that there was a world outside of her and Mary, this best friend of hers that, out of everyone she knew, she thought was safe. She lifted her head, wiping her tears and taking a few steps back until she was leaning against the doorframe, taking in Terry and Miles Clarkson as they took her place at Mary’s bedside. 

Because that was the thing. With her warmth and her love, she had touched so many lives. A girl like Mary, well, she left a gaping hole in her absence. And many, _many_ would mourn. 

And Lily felt like she was drowning for a moment, the air not coming to her lungs, because she had never seen anything as tragic as the heartbroken man who held his tiny son’s hand with one hand, tracing the line of the brand new engagement ring on his dying fiance’s finger with the other. 

Terry, kneeling next to his father at Mary’s bedside, was not crying, his cheeks that were broken up by ripe scars reddening with the effort of holding back tears. She could tell he was doing his best not to cry, to be brave in this moment. He looked a little lost, too, or maybe lost was not the right word. Lonely, that was it. She watched this little four-year-old’s heart get weighed down with a burden that he would carry all of his life, that had been placed on him the moment a psychopath had bitten him. 

( _And Lily had seen this look before, felt dread pool in her stomach as she watched the boy recede into himself, becoming a mirror image of a boy with matching scars on his face that she had met on a train so long ago_.) 

Lily almost wished to be an artist in that moment, to capture on a canvas the broken beauty of the family of three: the angelic glow of Mary’s last few breaths, like a dying star, the palpable love as Miles kissed her hand and Terry gripped his father’s jacket in a tight fist as he continued to fight back those tears, the adoration for his would-be mother playing out like a tragic movie on his face. The whole scene made Lily’s body ache. 

“Here my love,” Miles said softly, holding up a vial to Mary’s colorless lips, “Drink this, they said it will make it all easier. Painless, like drifting off into a dream.” The blonde witch sipped and smiled serenely back at the pair in front of her, the smile of a clear heart and conscience. 

Lily thought that if angels were real, surely Mary would be one. 

Suddenly a hand gripped Lily’s, startling her so that she hit her elbow against the door frame. 

“Shh, it’s just us Lily,” Dorcas murmured as she came up beside her, taking her hand. Ellie was next to her, blue eyes as big as saucers and wet with tears. The way they continued to stand in the doorway told Lily that they had already said their goodbyes, that she had been the last one to arrive. She tried to swallow the guilt, but it was painful going down. 

“Where’s Alice?” the redhead asked quietly. 

“On a mission somewhere,” Dorcas whispered back, “Completely out of contact. She’s going to be devastated that she couldn’t say goodbye.” 

Lily nodded, gulping heavily again as she tried to hold back her tears standing in the doorframe with her friends, watching with them as they lost one of their own. “I can’t believe we’re the only ones left.” 

“We’re dropping like flies,” Dorcas said gruffly, Lily saw the pain and loss in her amber eyes. Mary and Dorcas had always been a little bit on the fringe of the group of girls, separated from the original Gryffindor gang. They had grown so close during their time at the Safe House, almost two peas in a pod, and Lily gripped Dorcas’s hand all the tighter to let her know that she wasn’t alone, would never be alone. 

“It’s always so sad to see another one go out,” Ellie said, raising her hand in the air as if to touch something that no one else could see, “And…there it goes.” 

As soon as Ellie had lowered her hand, Lily realized that Mary had stopped breathing. 

A heavy sob ripped from Miles’s chest, and Lily ushered the other girls from the doorframe. “Let’s give them some space,” she murmured to the two, closing the door on the Clarksons behind her. 

This was the moment for Lily, the moment when she would detach from the group and drift away. When she hid herself in her room to tear herself to pieces, to let herself burn up in her anger at the world and then freeze solid at her solitude. This was the moment when she let the hurt ruin her while she sat locked in her room all alone. 

But just as she felt that first rip in her heart and turned her body to step away, a pair of warm arms encircled her, holding her in place. _James_. 

“Stay, love, stay here with me, with them,” he whispered into her hair as he held her softly, giving her the option to pull away but brushing against her skin in the way that begged her not to. “They need you right now, and you need them too, whether you know it or not.” 

Lily was a runner; it’s what she had always done when she got nervous or overwhelmed, going all the way back to the days when she was bullied by the other girls in her neighborhood. She would run to the park, hiding in one of the tunnels in the playground so that they wouldn’t get to see her cry. Not the mean girls, not her parents, not even Petunia, who was still her best friend at the time; even then Lily couldn’t stand to let other people see her tears. 

But this time Lily couldn’t hold in the sigh of relief. It’s like she’d been waiting for someone to tell her it was okay to do this, to fall apart in front of the others, to tell her she didn’t always have to be the strong one. That she didn’t have to run. 

Lily felt this all-encompassing thankfulness for one minute, thankfulness for finding a man like James. Not, not a man _like_ James, because there was no one else on this earth like him. She wondered in that moment if soulmates were real, because sometimes she wondered if James had been tailor made just for her. He always seemed to know exactly what she needed, knew exactly the right thing to say. 

And he had say the right thing this time around as well, had given her the explicit permission she’d been waiting to hear all her life, and she felt her entire body relax in relief. Because mourning Mary’s death all alone, that went against everything the young witch had lived for. She was a cornerstone of the community, had been the metaphorical matriarch of their hodgepodge family, and would have wanted more than anything for them to come together in love and remembrance, rather than tear themselves to pieces over her. 

It had been so long since Lily had done this, shown her vulnerable side to others, that she couldn’t quite remember what to do; she kept on playing with her hands awkwardly and couldn’t quite look anyone in the eyes. But James led her, in the way he was so good at, and soon she had joined the group of young witches and wizards leaning against each other in the small, dark hallway, hugging and rubbing shoulders and unabashedly sharing in their tears 

In that moment, Lily no longer felt alone. And she could think of no better tribute to the life and love of Mary MacDonald.

 

* * *

 

Lily dabbed at her puffy, bloodshot eyes with a cool washcloth, trying to reduce some of the swelling and make herself presentable before she went on with the day’s business. It had only taken one look in Miles Clarkson’s bewildered and heartbroken eyes for her to offer to take over the funeral proceedings (she was, after all, rather experienced at it by now). He had immediately and gratefully accepted the offer, so once she had stopped crying and James had gone off on an errand for the Order, she had set to work. Lists, she could lose herself in lists, find order in this small corner of the world. 

The sun had finally risen, though, which allowed Lily to finally put her plans into action, to force _herself_ into action. Keep moving, keep moving, that was how she would manage this one, this loss. Give back to the world in whatever ways she could, the way Mary would have done. So she wiggled into her jeans and threw on a jacket, ready to make her way down to the familiar flower shop and funeral home in town to make the usual inquiries.

Lily was still hopping into her boots as she exited her room and, losing her balance as she misguidedly swung the door she’d been leaning on wide open, stumbled into a startled Remus Lupin. 

“Oh sorry, Remus,” she began apologetically, but stopped cold when she saw the suitcase in his hand and guilty look on his face. She knew, it hit her like a freight train and she _knew_. _That little shit_ , she thought with a low hiss. 

“Remus,” Lily started again slowly, surveying him in what she hoped was a threatening manner, trying to _throw_ as much hostility at him as she could, “ _Please_ don’t tell me you’re doing what I think you’re doing.” 

At least he had the decency to look right ashamed. “Shit, Lil,” Remus said quietly, and she feel his walls were up as if the bricks were staring her in the face, and it made her stomach sink because she’d been there before, had made herself a fortress just like the one he was guarding right now. _Fuck_ , she thought, feeling something in her crack, _he wasn’t going to back down_. His next words just confirmed it, a weak attempt at an apology as he said, “I didn’t mean for you to find out like this.”

“Find out like what?” Lily shouted furiously, that dangerous thing welling up inside her. She could feel them coming on again, the tears, but this time hot and angry and _dammit she was so tired of crying_. “Were you just planning on us waking up to find your bed empty, no note? You were going to just disappear?” The tears were falling now and she wiped at them angrily as her vision blurred. She was trembling, her body shaking with hurt and betrayal because _how fucking could he?_ She voiced the feeling as she cried, “How could you do this to me, to all of us? We just lost Mary.” On her final words her voice broke. “We can’t lose you too.” 

“That’s exactly it though, isn’t it?” Remus replied with a sad smile, and it made Lily _burn_ that he wasn’t even being defensive, that he had anticipated the hurt he was going to inflict. Had seemed to accept it. But still she allowed him to pull her into a tight hug so that the tears, a mix of so many feelings of loss, could pour down without shame, soaking into the scratchy tweed fabric of his jacket. “I can do something out there, something more than just sitting around waiting for the bad shit to happen to us. I can _prevent_ another Mary, another Terry. I can stop things like this from happening to the people I love.” She felt the expansion of his chest against her as he took a deep breath, a tired sigh. “If I can save even just one other life, anything that happens to me would be worth it. Just think, Lily, if you were in my shoes, what would you do?” 

He was pleading with her, begging for her understanding and trying to reason out his own insanity; however, he wasn’t even trying for forgiveness, and somehow that’s what broke her. The idea that he wasn’t seeking forgiveness, that he didn’t think he deserved it. 

In that moment she realized he had taken on the weight, the blame of Mary’s death, of all the deaths and injuries caused by the breed of monster that he had somehow been lumped together with. And Lily knew she couldn’t convince him of anything otherwise because it would only make her a dirty hypocrite. Because she felt the weight too, of the loss, and she knew no reasoning on anyone’s part would ever take it away. 

And so she relented. “You should _never_ do anything I would do,” she grumbled into his shoulder, wiping her nose against his jacket out of spite before pulling back to look at him. She cupped his face in her hands, trying to memorize his face, every scar and smile line, this friend who, as she was roped into the mad world of James Potter, had become so much more, had become _family_. She memorized his face because she knew he might not come home. 

“That’s how I live my life, though,” he said, and it broke her heart how sad his smile still felt, even though she knew he was trying to tease her, “What would Lily Evans do? I think the entire world would improve if we all took that motto to heart.” 

She was too busy rolling her eyes to notice the sincerity in his expression. 

“So that’s it then?” she asked her, wiping away the wet remnants of her tears, “You’re just going to disappear without a word to the rest of them?” She could imagine the Marauder’s faces now, and winced. _Merlin, James was going to be pissed._  

“I’ve always been rubbish at goodbyes,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders, and again she understood, felt an ironic sense of solidarity with the werewolf who shared such a similar sense of isolation, even in a house full of friends. 

She shuffled her feet uncomfortably now because she knew what came next. “This is it, then?” she asked quietly, even as she knew the answer. 

And he only nodded in reply. 

Lily threw her arms around him one last time, trying to relay the love of everyone in the Safe House in that one gesture. “You better come back, okay?” she told him sternly, “I mean it, Remus John Lupin, you come back or I’ll hunt your sorry ass down myself.” 

Remus only laughed and untangled himself from her, giving her one last sad smile ( _why did he have to always look so sad?_ ) before he hefted up his suitcase again and turned to leave. 

As the sound of his footsteps disappeared down the hallway, Lily leaned her aching head against the cool plaster of the wall. She tried to swallow the lump that had formed in her throat; she was imagining the morning after the next full moon, possibly the first he would have since the beginning of Hogwarts where his friends weren’t going to be waiting for him the moment he woke up. The first full moon where he wouldn’t have loving friends or family to remind him that he wasn’t the monster that had unleashed itself in the dark of the night. 

A choked sob echoed down the empty halls.

 

* * *

 

By the time James got back from watch, the afternoon sun mocking him as he retreated to seek out sleep, he was unsurprised to find Lily already passed out in the plush four poster bed that sat in the middle of her cinderblock room. She had never been a sound sleeper, had battled insomnia for just about as long as he had known her. But she was always out like a light after a good cry. 

He was actually a bit shocked that she had lasted as long as she did. He had heard from Dorcas that Lily had taken it upon herself to plan the funeral for the Clarksons, so they didn’t have to worry about it as they grieved. He could see the papers strewn across the concrete floors, lists and flyers depicting all of the tasks she still had yet to complete. And he would bet a hundred Galleons that she had tried to begin meeting with all the vendors, forgetting that today was Christmas in her fervor for distraction and _Merlin how was it only Christmas?_ It felt like a hundred years had passed in the past twenty-four hours. 

( _And all the while James had tried not to think about how experienced his Lily was at planning funerals by now_.) 

James shuffled into the bathroom, taking a quick shower to wipe off that particular layer of grime that only came from being awake for more than twenty-four hours straight. He brushed his teeth and did his best to dry his hair with his towel (sleeping with wet hair only tended to exacerbate his bedhead look). It was only when he strode back into the bedroom portion of the flat and gazed upon Lily’s sleeping form that he let himself face facts. 

He was angry at her. 

And Merlin, he _hated_ being angry at her. If he had his way he would spend the rest of his life making her laugh, worshipping the way she smiled, and getting naked as often as humanly possible. He wished love could just be a blanket statement, something that smoothed the edges of all emotions, eased all the hurt in the world. 

But love wasn’t like that. Love could be beautiful, but it could also be ugly. Jealous, paranoid, hurt. For James, more than anything else love made him afraid. 

Because suddenly he had so much more to lose than just his own health, his own pride. He worried day and night about Lily, whether she was throwing herself into danger heedlessly or simply disregarding her own health. It drove him crazy because didn’t she get it? Didn’t she realize what she was to him, what it would do to him if he lost her? 

And now she was keeping secrets again. He tried not to be paranoid about it but he had been _this close_ to losing her last time and he recognized the signs, the way she was skipping meals and disappearing for long tracks of time. And then last night she’d been completely AWOL until he had found her using the mirror, and she still hadn’t told him where she had been hidden away. He had a sinking feeling that she never would. 

It wasn’t really the sneaking around that bothered him, though, or the danger involved, not really. He knew there was a war on, and knew what all that entailed. It was more about that sinking feeling, that knowledge that she would never share, the fact that she was throwing herself into danger _without him_. 

It was about the realization that Lily didn’t trust James, not really. Even after everything they had been through she was still hiding bits and pieces away. And it burned him up inside because didn’t she know that he would follow her to the ends of the earth? That he would stand with her no matter what, until the very end? 

James kicked the corner of his old school trunk, partially hidden under the bed, in frustration, and immediately startled back when a furry little head popped out from beneath the covers and meowed in irritation. 

“Sorry Mittens,” he gasped, clutching at his heart as he tried to slow the beating, “Didn’t see you there.” 

Although Lily had remained undisturbed (thank Merlin as he had completely forgotten about the light sleeper present in the room amongst his pity party), the little grey kitten had crawled out from under the covers and was perched on his pillow, appraising him with her marble yellow eyes. Well, really she was a cat by now but James would never stop thinking of her as that little furball that adopted him so many months ago. 

Truly, James shouldn’t have been surprised to find that Mittens had found her way to Lily’s side; over the past few months she seemed to have developed a sixth sense for the people who needed cheering up the most. Even in as large and convoluted a building as the Safe House, Mittens always found her way to the room of the person who had just suffered a loss, who had wounds that would not heal, pain that could not be eased. And she would climb into the beds a curl up against them, offering a comforting warmth and the kind of unconditional love that only a pet could give. 

And although James knew that Mittens had probably made the rounds by now to all those affected by the big, gaping wound that the loss of Mary had left behind, he was glad that the kitten had, as always, found her way back to Lily. 

( _Lily, who had gone so long without unconditional love, who was afraid of losing her loved ones at every turn, who was so fearful of the simple comforts of a loving touch_ ). 

Cat therapy: if James was a Healer, he would write that mad redhead of his a prescription for it. 

Although, right now, as Mittens stared him down he felt a bit like throwing a shoe at her. “Don’t look at me like that,” James told her grumpily, “I’m allowed to be in crisis too! I’m a complex man with complex feelings.” 

The cat only flicked her tail, seemingly unimpressed.

James groaned in frustration, “I know, I know, I should just ask her. But you know how she is, she’ll just evade the question and then never talk to me again. I’ve been here before, Mittens!” 

He could have sworn the cat raised an eyebrow. 

“You’re right,” he sighed, “I should just sleep on it. I’m running on too little sleep and it makes me grumpy. But I promise I’ll do it, and I’ll try not to yell, too.” 

Mittens seemed to find this answer acceptable as she proceeded to burrow back under the blankets. A ripping yawn seemed to indicate that James’s body agreed with the cat’s decision, and he crawled into his bed, exhaustion hitting him all at once. He suddenly felt like his whole body was going to collapse, turn into a heap of bones and dust. 

But he was comforted by Lily automatically snuggled into his shoulder, seeking out his body heat, and the way Mittens curled around his feet (although he was secretly afraid that she was going to suffocate someday under those heavy blankets, but she refused to be moved). Things, well, for the first time today things felt somewhere close to okay. 

Cat therapy: it should be a real thing.


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've been writing this for over a year now, and it's over 175,000 words, and I'm just in awe over this whole experience. This chapter is dedicated to all of you amazing readers who have just PUMPED ME UP with all of your reviews and messages on tumblr, etc. Also dedicated to Carly Rae Jepsen because I wrote almost this entire chapter while dancing to her songs. Don't let that fool you, though, I place this as a 6.5/10 on the levins angst scale. I swear I will make it up to you in the next chapter, though, it's going to be adorbs. Anyways, enjoy the chapter and feel free to yell at me here or on tumblr @a-colloection-of-nonsense!

29.

 

Lily couldn’t stay there.

 

It was a brilliantly sunny day, not the kind that blinds you but the kind that makes you appreciate just how blue the sky could be. The frost still on the ground looked like the most delicate lace spread crisply across the hard dirt. Lily could swear she even hear a bird’s song defying the seasons as it floated on the crisp winter air. It was the most beautiful day she had seen in ages.

 

Yet, all she could think about was how the ground must still be frozen as they tried to dig a hole for Mary’s grave.

 

And how they had to have the funeral at dawn in a dilapidated cemetery because they couldn’t risk Death Eaters finding them congregated in such a large group, how few people were left to mourn, how a girl who had only lived for other’s happiness was now buried in the ground, _how used to death she was getting_ —

 

No, even though she had planned the whole thing, even though Terry Clarkson was crying and Miles Clarkson had an empty look in his eyes and everyone was looking to her to figure out what came next, Lily couldn’t stay there a second longer.

 

As soon as the beleaguered priest from the village nearby that she was able to bribe to run the service spoke his closing words, Lily rushed into the derelict cemetery chapel and apparated away.

 

Dust rained down on her like the first seconds of a snowfall as she materialized in the barely-standing shack, disrupting the disheveled disorder of the place, born from decades of neglect. Lily thought it had once been an old hunting cabin, standing quite isolated in the middle of one of northern England’s vast forests.

 

The remoteness of the cabin was definitely the majority of its appeal in Lily’s eyes. She had been using it for quite some time as a mailing address for certain informants who wished to remain anonymous, or as a host for clandestine meetings. Most recently she had been using it as a way to secretly communicate with Regulus as they planned days on which to meet; a small pile of letters on the precarious three-legged table indicated that it had been put to much use in her absence.

 

Lily took one look at the pile and sat down on the dirty wooden floor of the living room, cradling her head in her hands as she let out a weary sigh.

 

The truth was, Lily was a coward. It had been two weeks since she had rushed out of 12 Grimmauld Place without a word of explanation, and she had not even been back to her cabin, let alone answered one of the – she counted with a glance – _seven_ letters that Regulus had written her. It had been two weeks since Mary had died while Lily was mysteriously absent, and she had been studiously avoiding James and his increasingly heated questions. It had been two weeks since Remus had left the Safe House for the werewolves, and she had flinched every time Sirius entered the room in preparation for the shouting match that was sure to ensue as he raged against her for letting their friend walk away without a word.

 

Lily had never felt less like a Gryffindor as she tried to close her eyes against all the problems that were bubbling to the surface. She wondered if she was a bit like the anecdote about the frog in the pot of boiling water, letting the heat of her problems slowly get out of hand until she was burning alive.

 

It was because it was there again, that exhaustion and helplessness that came from fighting a war that Lily had never once felt like she was winning. Usually she used that desolate feeling, spun it tight inside of herself until she was sprung like a coil ready to be unleashed. The anger, the restless energy, that was how it normally goes.

 

But there wasn’t any of that anger this time, the painful kind that burned her insides, and some corner of her mind knew that this was probably a good thing, that it showed some sort of growth on her part. But it was so hard to celebrate overcoming one character flaw when every atom of her being felt like it was drenched in this heavy, viscous _sad_.

 

She couldn’t think, she couldn’t move, and suddenly being around people just seemed so _hard_. Lily had always felt that every action she took was the stacking of a brick, building up the pieces of this great war machine of the resistance. And she felt lost now ( _and her vision blurred with tears as if to imitate her heart_ ) because she couldn’t _see it_ anymore.

 

 _“James, James, James_ ,” Lily whispered softly, suddenly wishing he was there. Not the James of the last few weeks, tense and with a tick in his jaw as he worked double shifts to pick up the slack of all those in mourning, and to keep an eye on Lily. She knew he was watching her, had accused him of the stifling action more than once in their verbal sparring as she tried to evade his questioning. But her anger was mostly bluster, a way to hide the way her heart was breaking over his worry for her. In any other circumstance she would be mad as hell that he was acting so suspicious. But she couldn’t truly fault him when she was in fact hiding one hell of a secret from him.

 

No, it wasn’t that James that she needed. She needed the one that held her softly as she cried in his arms, who checked in to make sure she was eating meals, who brought his Order paperwork into her potions lab while she worked just so he could be close to her. She needed, wanted, _dreamed of_ the James whose touch was so soft, who made her ache with that big blossoming feeling of _love_ in her very core.

 

It was the most frustrating thing to be fighting with the person whose comfort you needed most.

 

But were they even fighting? Maybe it erred more on the side of a Cold War more than anything, both parties knowing exactly what the other was going to say, both knowing that neither of them would change their minds. Knowing that if they ever truly had it out it would leave them both wasted.

 

She didn’t know what was happening between them, or how to fix it, but she couldn’t ask anyone because, well, she just _couldn’t_. It always happened this way, after a loss. Everyone mourned differently and Lily had learned that for her it meant her heart pounding against her ribs painfully any time she tried to talk to someone about anything past the weather, that baring her heart to anyone even the tiniest bit resulted in a deep-rooted fear blossoming in her chest telling her to _run run run_.

 

There was that stack of letters, though, that reminder from Regulus that there was too much at stake for her to run, too much at stake for her to let herself drown in her own suffocating sadness. With a fortifying deep breath, Lily sat herself on the ancient couch ingrained with decades of dust and went about the task of reading the letters.

 

_What happened? When are you coming back? We still have a lot of work to do. R.A.B._

_I’ve discovered a lot about the H. You should come back soon, lots of work to do. R.A.B._

_I’m getting impatient. I can’t do this by myself. Stop ignoring me. R.A.B._

_Where have you been? Please reply ASAP. R.A.B._

_Are you okay? I’m getting worried. What’s going on? R.A.B._

_Where are you? R.A.B._

_Please be okay. Please don’t leave me all alone. R.A.B._

A faint smile ghosted Lily’s lips as she read the increasingly frantic and worried letters. Regulus’s impatient bluster slowly melting away to show that he _cared_ , that he was scared for her, for himself, made her feel the soft warmth of a hug. How precious it was, love that came from an unexpected place.

 

( _And she felt a hollow feeling as well, realizing that if she died then no one would know the truth about Regulus, that he would be all alone in the world._ )

 

Maybe working on the horcrux research would pull her out of the hole that she kept on blindly digging for herself, Lily thought as she conjured a quill and parchment, and began to pen a reply to her partner. Having a mission always helped to make her feel a little more human. There was something to be said for the psychological effects of having a purpose, a goal to strive for. It might even stimulate her fatigued brain enough for her to think of what to say to James, to Sirius, to everyone who she still couldn’t quite look in the eye.

 

A crash suddenly startled her, making her jump so that she spilled her ink all over the scratched wooden floor. “Shit,” she whispered as she pulled out her wand, adopting a defensive position as she went to investigate the noise. She knew that it had come from the front door, which had become so warped with age that it took a very particular set of wiggles and bumps to get it to open properly. Because of her need to meet with a variety of informants at the house (although she usually sent a portkey for those she didn’t completely trust so that they wouldn’t know the exact location) she had far less impressive wards placed around the property. It was so remote, though, so hidden that she couldn’t imagine who was trying to enter at this hour.

 

She raised her wand even higher at the thought.

 

A final crash told her that whoever the trespasser was had entered the front door. Using her old quicksand ward meant that if the intruder had any nefarious purposes, they would be frozen in place in the front entryway. Lily carefully turned the corner, lips ready to shout out a spell at a moment’s notice, and nearly dropped her wand as she took in the dark figure in the doorway.

 

“Lily,” the figure said, hands raised above his head to show he was unarmed, and his very ability to move showing that he was not a threat.

 

Lily was surprised she didn’t hear an audible crack as she felt something break inside of her.

 

“Sev?”

 

* * *

 

It is truly astounding, the human heart’s capacity for emotion. How one feeling can wash over you like a tidal wave, filling every space in your being all the way down to the tips of your toes. And then the feelings can come in like a twister, a dozen emotions swirling together into one perfect storm, swallowing you so quickly you can’t even tell which feeling is which. All you know is you are getting torn apart at the seams.

 

Right then Lily was in the eye of the storm.

 

Years of training had overridden her current state of confusion so that her wand was brandished defensively, but it shuddered in the air as she failed to suppress the shaking of her hands.

 

“I-I think I ought to kill you now,” Lily told her childhood friend, voice quivering, “I told myself I would the next time I saw you.”

 

“Lily, please, listen to me,” Snape begged, taking a step forward but stopping as Lily jabbed her wand warningly through the air. She didn’t think she had ever seen him looking worse, even those times when he had run to her house in the middle of the night, face swollen from his father’s fists. Severus Snape’s skin was sallow, drooping with fatigue in a way that made him look years older than he was. His hair was greasier than ever, and Lily could tell that this time it was due to a lack of self-care rather than unfortunate genetics. Indeed, his whole look was disheveled, dirty, so in contrast to the way he had preened in his robes during school to make himself look good in front of the other rich Slytherins that he tried so desperately to fit in with.

 

It was his eyes that were the most different, though. When Severus had run away to her house, his eyes had always shone with fury at his father and adoration as he looked up at her from his makeshift bed on her bedroom floor. When he had fought with James and the other Marauders, or tried to show off for the Slytherins, they were always filled with a steely determination. Even when they had their final fight and their friendship had slowly withered away, Severus always had a purposeful look about him.

 

Today, all she could see in his dark, nearly black eyes was desperation and fear.

 

“What do you want, _Snape_?” Lily demanded, recovering from her earlier shock to emphasize the use of his surname that he so hated, making sure he noticed that any ties from their childhood friendship, including his old nickname, were long since gone. “Last time I saw you, you were trying to kill my friends and make me some sort of slave. Or was it all a misunderstanding? Just a bit of _fun_?” From his flinch she could tell he remembered the words, his excuse for the wannabe Death Eaters and their cruelty towards Mary during the final fight that ended their friendship all the way back in fifth year.

 

“Lily, you have to listen to me,” Snape said again, raising his hands higher as if to show her that he came in peace, “You’re in great danger-”

 

“ _Danger?_ ” Lily shrieked, an unfamiliar laugh bubbling from her throat, “I know all about the danger I’m in, Snape. I’ve wiped the exploded brains of my friend off my face, I’ve watched children die in my hands. I’ve buried more people than I can count.” She tried not to remember the body that had been lowered into the group just hours ago, but still her voice broke as she said, “I know exactly how much danger I’m in.”

 

“There’s something new happening though,” Snape cut in, “Something big. They’re saying that the Dark Lord will become undefeatable, invincible. You need to get out _now_ , before it’s too late!”

 

“It was too late the moment I was born!” Lily shouted back, “It was too late the day the dirty blood that runs through my veins produced the first spark of magic. There was never a chance for me, not with _him_ around.”

 

“I could convince him, though!” Snape pleaded, “The Dark Lord trusts me, he would listen to me if I asked. I could keep you safe, safer than Potter and the rest of them ever could!”

 

A hysterical laugh bubbled up in her chest. “I wondered how long it would take for you to bring him up. Potter, Potter, Potter! It’s always about James with you, isn’t it?”

 

“Potter’s the reason things ended up the way they did!” Snape spat, the familiar anger burning in his eyes now, “He pushed me too far that day, and everything went bad after that! He was always trying to come in between you and me, was jealous of what we had!”

 

“The reason things ended the way they did was all you,” Lily said coldly, “No one made you say that word, no one made you join the Death Eaters. That was all you, Snape.”

 

“What was I supposed to do, Lily?” Snape exploded, “I lived with them, slept in the same room as them. They would have killed me in my sleep if I didn’t join them! And you, you were already moving so far out of reach with all of those idiotic, suicidal Gryffindors. Was I supposed to just pine after you from afar while you went off on your merry way, leaving me to be tortured by the other Slytherins?”

 

“You were in a shit situation, but there had to be another way than _this_!”

 

“Don’t be a child, Lily,” Snape scoffed, “I would be dead by now if I hadn’t joined the Dark Lord, and _you_ will be dead if you don’t get out soon.” His voice got softer, more pleading. “Lily, you know I’ve always loved you. Please, let me protect you, let me keep you safe.”

 

And there it was again, that cracking feeling, as if her chest was caving in, and she felt her eyes sting as she held back burning tears. “ _Love?_ ” she choked out, “If you loved me even the tiniest bit you would have never joined the Death Eaters. The death, the hate, the pain, it’s _everything_ I’m against. You _knew_ me, knew my heart and yet you still-” She broke off as a sob built in her chest, and she took a steadying breath. “This-this sick, twisted feeling you have for me isn’t _love_. It’s an obsession, and an excuse for all the disgusting things you have done.”

 

“That isn’t true, everything I’ve done has been for you!”

 

“ _No it hasn’t!_ ” Lily shouted, and the room rang with the echoes of her hurt. Tears were streaming down Lily’s face at such a rate that she was blinded, and she felt like she was going to choke on the sobs that were drowning her lungs. So many words she had never said, so many feelings she had clamped down on so she didn’t have to face them, were pouring out of the broken dams in her heart. “I needed you,” she said through her tears, “You said I was leaving you behind, but you were my _best friend_. I loved you, never in the way you wanted, but I still loved you with everything I had. You were my everything for so long. Merlin, Sev, it wasn’t like it was easy cutting you out of my life!”

 

“But you left me all alone. All that Death Eater propaganda popping up, threatening my life and scaring the _shit_ out of me, and you chose _them_ , you left me all alone to face the darkness. I was so terrified, Sev, and I just don’t understand, I _still_ don’t understand. How could you leave me all alone like that?” Lily’s tears cleared away the dust on the wooden flood as she buried her palms into her burning eyes and cried, “Why couldn’t you be the person I needed you to be?”

 

Silence rang throughout the house, punctuated every once in a while by a muffled sniffle from Lily.

 

“I-shit, Lily, I didn’t know,” Snape finally said, burying his face in his hands in the same way she had only moments ago, “Merlin, I’m such an idiot.”

 

“You bloody well are,” Lily snapped in reply, wiping her eyes, “But I already buried one friend today, so you’re getting a free pass. Please leave. I-I have nothing left to say to you. That was it, that was all of it. All I have left to give to you.”

 

For the first time in what must have been years, Snape didn’t argue with her, simply made his way back towards the dilapidated front door. He looked dejected, at a loss, as if his whole purpose for living had been taken away. It made Lily wonder exactly what delusion he had been functioning under. That he would be her knight in shining armor? No, not when he served the very dragon that threatened her existence.

 

Just before he crossed the threshold, Lily called out suddenly, “Wait!” Snape turned, a hopeful look on his face, but Lily simply said coldly, “I forgot, I need to obliviate you before you leave. I don’t know how you found this location, probably stalking me or some shit like that, but I can’t have you spreading that information around. It would put too many people at risk.”

 

Snape nodded, but suddenly halted. “Do you think – could you let me at least remember this conversation? Please. Let me – let me at least have that.”

 

Lily nodded stiffly before raising her wand.

 

 _“Obliviate_.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Where were you?”

 

There was no preamble as Lily slid into her room, moving in a way that she hoped was quiet enough to not wake up James. It seemed, though, that her hope was in vain; he had been waiting up for her.

 

“Merlin, James, you scared me!” Lily laughed nervously, hoping to evade his questions by quickly getting ready for bed. It was late, later than she had planned to stay at her little run-down house, but after her run-in with Snape she had been all kind of fucked up and had just been too drained, too emotionally devastated to move. She had watched the sun set and the moon rise before she had even made a move to leave the front entryway. She felt like all the blood had been drained from her body, like formless dust was all that was moving through her veins, and wanted nothing more than to collapse onto the bed and sleep for a year. But James stopped her as she made a move towards the bathroom, grabbing her arm.

 

“This isn’t scared, Lily. No, scared is having you disappear from a funeral for _hours_ without a word. You didn’t even take the mirror with you this time! _Fuck_ , don’t you understand how worried I was?” he asked her furiously, his grip on her arm tightening.

 

“James, you’re hurting me,” she told him firmly, and immediately he let her go and guiltily took a step back. But he was still angry, no, _furious_ , and she could tell he was still waiting for an answer about where she had been that night. But she was just so fucking _tired_ , tired of it all, just wanted to hide away from it for a little bit (had meant to hide away earlier that night but, alas, the world was out to get her). “Please,” she said wearily, “Don’t do this, not tonight.”

 

“Then when, Lily?” James asked her, voice even but still burning, “You’ve been avoiding me for ages, avoiding _this_ for ages. I don’t know what’s going on and just, fuck, I’m terrified that if we put it off any longer you’re going to end up dead and I won’t even have a clue about what happened!” His voice grew louder at the end, his lungs panting as he let out the shouts.

 

Lily tried to think of what to say, to come up with some excuse or lie that would put his mind at ease, or at least convince him to stop asking. On any other night she could have come up with a halfway decent story, but she was too empty, had no words to give but the truth.

 

“I can’t tell you, okay?” she said with a sigh, knowing that this was not going to go over well but unable to truly care, “I can’t even tell you why I have to keep it a secret. You’re just going to have to trust me, okay? Please, just leave it alone.”

 

“I can’t accept that,” James said, “I trust you, you know I do, but there’s no way in hell I’m going to let you face something that obvious has you scared shitless by yourself. You’re in over your head, Lily, I can tell.”

 

And Lily exploded.

 

“Well, guess what?” she cried, feeling her face turning red as she burned with a misplaced anger, “You may not like it, but that’s the way it is! Just because I’m with you doesn’t mean you have a right to my every thought, my every action!”

 

“That’s bullshit and you know it!” he shouted back, “This isn’t about me being so overprotective bully or whatever you’re trying to make me out to be. This goes beyond that! You can’t keep sneaking around and hiding from people. Even if whatever you’re up to is important, it’s not just me you’re hiding from. Everyone feels it, the way you’re shutting us out. Merlin, Lily, it’s just not healthy!”

 

“How am I supposed to act, then?” Lily spat, her anger building until she felt it turn into a twisted beast, “Please, _enlighten me_. What, exactly, is the appropriate response to watching one of your best friends die in your arms?”

 

“Don’t pretend like you’re the only person that has a stake in this war,” James snapped, “I know what you’ve been through is, just, beyond shitty but you can’t shut us all out and act like you’re the only one that’s hurting! It’s not fair to everyone else!”

 

“Isn’t that what we learned throughout all this, James?” Lily cried hysterically. It was _too much, too much, too much_. She couldn’t feel this much, _hurt this much_ in just one day. It shouldn’t be possible, and maybe it wasn’t, maybe that’s why she felt like all of her insides were turning to dust. She pushed all of the hurt that was churning in her lungs out as she yelled, “Life isn’t fucking fair!”

 

James went quiet then, a coldness drifting from him that made Lily shiver. “I can’t talk to you when you’re like this,” he said, moving past her to shuffle through their dresser drawers, pulling out a bundle of clothes. He headed towards the door.

 

“Where are you going?” she shouted after him, not done with whatever was happening then, not done breaking and burning and destroying everything in her path. Not done with _him_.

 

He didn’t turn around as he walked through the doorway, though, wouldn’t let her go another round with him in the ring the way she desperately wanted to. “I’m staying in Sirius’s room tonight,” was all he said before slamming the door behind him.

 

Lily picked up the closest thing to her, a vase filled with flowers that James had gotten from the farmer’s market for her the other day, and hurled it at the closed door, taking perverse pleasure in the way it shattered on contact as she shouted at the top of her lungs, “ _Fuck!”_


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long time no see, friends! Sorry for disappearing, adulthood has been hitting me hard, but no fear, I am seeing this story through to the end! So, half of this chapter was written while watching true crime documentaries, half of it while watching Queer Eye and I dare you to guess which is which. Needless to say that a lot is happening in this chapter. Warnings are: 8/10 for the Levins Angst Scale, graphic depictions of violence, nauseating fluff, and (what you've all been waiting for) SMUT! Dedicated to all of my awesome readers and friends who have been so encouraging and have kept me working on this even through the depression sessions! Love y'all, enjoy!

30.

“Lily.”

The witch did not lift her head, did not acknowledge Dorcas. She simply stared blankly at the tray in front of her, settled on the cold concrete floor of her potions room.

The carrots were arranged in a three-by-four grid: twelve in all. She had the peas in one single file line: thirty-four. One chicken breast, cut into eleven one-centimeter cubes.

“Lily, you have to eat.”

“Dorcas, I _can’t_. I don’t know why, but I-I just can’t.”

Lily’s hands sat on either side of the food Dorcas had watched her meticulously line up in front of her, as if she was afraid to touch it. She had cut it into pieces, rearranged it a half a dozen times, and still had not even taken a bite.

“No one has seen you eat anything in two days. You _have_ to.”

The redhead made no move to pick up the food. Lily watched it as if she was waiting for it to disappear; Dorcas watched her friend as she wasted away.

“Lily,” Dorcas said, the word a heartbroken sigh, “Lily, _please_ , tell me what to do here, tell me how to help you.” The strong-willed witch hated that she was so helpless in the face of her self-destructing friend. _Fuck_ , everything was going to shit and Dorcas had no idea how to fix it. The others would have; Marlene and Benjy would have made Lily laugh, and Mary would have mothered her to death, but they were dead and gone. The lads, the Marauders, would have known what to say, but they were all off on various missions, and anyways there had been a rift between them ever since Lily and James had some kind of fight two weeks ago. Frank and Alice were running a Safe House in Bristol, she hardly heard from them these days. And Ellie, well, her Seer abilities were causing her to see things that were driving her half-mad; she was barely functioning herself these days.

And Dorcas was the most useless of them all, staring face to face with the person who needed her the most but unable to think of a single thing to say. She had not grown up around loving, comforting hands in her cold and fearful home, had no idea how to bring a person out of the kind of darkness that Lily was facing in that moment. Dorcas would have gladly taken a Killing Curse for her friend that had saved her from a lethal kind of despair all those years ago, wanted to beg some higher power to let her take on the pain that was tearing the witch apart.

But there was no one in the world, let alone the Safe House, to hear her pleas.

“Merlin, it’s not like it was your fault,” Dorcas said in an attempt to comfort, muddling around trying to find the right words, “There was no way you could have known the potion would react the way it did.”

Lily visibly flinched at her words. “It was my fault,” she intoned hollowly, “I created the potion, I pressured them to use it on this mission.”

“Lily,” Dorcas sighed, trying to take her friend’s hand (even as she recoiled from the touch), “Anyone could have made that mistake.”

“But it was _me_ , it was _my_ mistake. Thirteen people dead.” Lily’s voice had turned cold, and Dorcas wished she would just fucking _cry_ already, to break dishes in her potions room the way she did when she thought no one could hear, for her to yell and scream and _fight_ the way she knew Lily could. Dorcas wanted her to do _something_ other than slowly starve herself to death. But the redhead just continued on in that flat, dead voice, “I murdered thirteen people that day, and that’s all there is to say.” She stood abruptly, her foot scattering the neatly arranged dinner plate so that peas rolled gloomily across the floor.

“It’s my turn for watch in the bar,” Lily said flatly, and Dorcas’s stomach plummeted at how faraway she seemed. After everything they had been through, all the close shaves with death, it was Lily’s own guilt that was going to do her in.

 _She’s too good for this world_ , Dorcas thought, her heart feeling a bittersweet squeeze. And she prayed silently for something, anything to save her. Prayed for a miracle.

 

* * *

 

 

Lily had asked Ellie, who had watch before her, to save the cleaning for her shift. Work, sweat, dirt under her fingernails, _that’s_ what Lily needed right now. It had always been the way she coped: how she scrubbed her bathroom with a toothbrush after her and Petunia’s first fight over her Hogwarts letter; the way she had thoroughly cleaned out three empty classrooms when she’d heard the news of the first mass murder of Muggles by Voldemort; how she had purposely chosen the cheapest, most disgusting apartment available the summer her parents had died and her sister had kicked her out. When Lily had finally moved out, the place had been spotless.

She had these tics, these urges that appeared when she felt that tightening coil in her chest, when it got to that place of _too much too much too much_. Too much happening for her to take in; the way she couldn’t stop trembling long enough to sleep, the way the smell of cooked meat caused bile to rise in the back of her throat, the way she felt that if she stopped moving it might all come crashing down on her. 

If she stopped for even a second, let her eyes close for just a breath, she started seeing visions of the mansion, of all the mutilated bodies scattered on the floor, _eyes bulging in fear and scarred hands clawing at throats –_

Lily just made it to the bar’s kitchen sink before she retched, tears burning in her eyes to match the sharp stinging in her throat. She wiped off her face with a towel left on the edge of the sink and gurgled some water straight from the faucet before she made her way to the cleaning closet, gathering the myriad of supplies that would keep her busy for another sleepless night.

Sometimes she thought of all the religions she had been exposed to growing up and wondered about the truth of them. Maybe she was taking on the Catholic beliefs of her Irish father, denying herself food and working herself to the bone as some sort of penance. Not that she truly thought it mattered. No matter if she starved herself to death or cleaned every floor in England, if there was a Hell she was surely well on her way there already.

It was the potion she’d been working on for ages, a gaseous Draught of Living Death, meant to end a battle without a single wand drawn. She supposed in the end it achieved the desired results – just not in the way Lily had anticipated.

She was stupid, _so fucking stupid_ , she should have seen it coming ( _and just thinking about it caused every atom of her being to keen in regret)._ Because it was a mining town, _she bloody well knew that it was, it was Selby for Merlin’s sake_ , had grown up in one herself and knew the latent coal dusted that still seemed to settle in the air no matter how the environmental agencies tried to clean it up. And that almost infinitesimal sulfur that built up from the coal dust, _fucking sulfur_ , of _course_ it would tamper with the potion, transforming from a sedative into a toxin with the introduction of a single element.

It had been horrible, nauseating, so terrible Lily didn’t even have a word to describe the tremors that went through her whole body at the memory of what she had seen. They were on a raid, trying to take the group of Death Eaters and dark creatures that had assembled at one of the Lestrange estates as prisoners, planning on bleeding them for information, using them as hostages and trading chips. They had snuck onto the estate and released the gas into the mansion. The Death Eaters had begun to drop like flies and it seemed like the plan had worked, a rare victory, but then –

The Death Eaters weren’t falling into a dreamless sleep; they were suffocating.

The very air inside, flowing through, surrounding the mansion had turned into an invisible fight that robbed them of air, singeing the skin of the victims until it bubbled and began to smoke. The Death Eaters had struggled, gagging on the toxic air, trying to escape but recoiling at the feeling of their own molten skin against the doorknob. When they all eventually fell, one by one, fear still burned in their open, unseeing eyes.

The Order members with Lily had all been wearing Bubble Charms on their heads to escape what was supposed to be a sedative and remained able to breathe, and they figured out what was going on soon enough to only suffer mild burns, but all Lily could hear in her head was _what if what if what if-_

And even those torturous thoughts were too late to save the dead. Thirteen, Lily had killed _thirteen people_ in under five minutes.

Just thinking of it, Lily could feel the pulse of blood at her wrists, pounding to mark every second she was alive, every second she had stolen from those thirteen. She - she had never meant to kill again, was still so _buried_ underneath all she had done. She had invented the potion to save lives, to stop wars. And she had failed - awfully, horribly failed.

She felt the blood moving through her veins again and she traced a line across one of them with a finger, feeling an itch along that line that scared her. She was feeling too much and nothing at all, a pendulum swinging back and forth, slashing at her chest.

 _Too much_ , she thought again, dropping the cleaning supplies to wrap her arms tightly around herself in an attempt at comfort. But her own cold, lifeless touch could not replace the arms she _yearned_ to feel around her, to stroke her hair and wipe her tears and rock her to sleep.

 _James_.

She felt it in every molecule of her being, the absence of _him_ , who had become such a pillar in her life that she was crumbling without him. _Fuck_ it wasn’t supposed to happen like this. Things had gotten bad, had blown up in their faces the way it seemed to happen because they were Lily and James and nothing between them could ever be easy, but goddammit they were in _love_.

She was Lily and he was James, and when they were together, miracles happened.

But he had been called away on a mission the day after their fight, and she hadn’t heard a word from him since then.

Not that she knew what she would even say to him, to fix that _thing_ that had broken between them. She still wasn’t completely sure how the bastardized Unforgivable Vow worked, or what its consequences could be if she broke it, and felt more than a little disinclined to prod the bear, so there was no way she could tell James about her work with Regulus. She knew she could tell him about the run-in with Snape, actually yearned for the chance to lean on him as she tried to sort out the clusterfuck of feelings she had over the whole thing, but that wouldn’t account for all of the times she had been missing, wouldn’t account for her absence during Mary’s death.

And, when it came down to it and she was looking into those hazel eyes that turned her into a puddle, she knew she wouldn’t be able to lie.

She didn’t know if she was right or wrong about _any_ of it, had no idea where things were supposed to go from here. There was no more black and white in this world, only grey. And Lily felt like she was walking through one of those thick London fogs, so lost she couldn’t even tell if her next step would take her over a cliff.

Dorcas had called it a mistake, one that anyone could make. Even now Lily flinched at the memory of the pity, at the _forgiveness_ in her friend’s voice. And she knew that as long as she lived, she would never forgive herself the thirteen lives she had taken through her own carelessness.

So instead she poured out a puddle of soapy water in the far corner of the pub, kneeling down with a toothbrush in hand, determined that the floor would shine like the sun come morning.

 

* * *

 

James was running out of his dad’s good whiskey.

He had never really been a drinker, not the way that many of the other Order members had taken to it on their nights off to cope with phantom pains and the ghosts that dogged their every step. James liked to keep his mind crisp, didn’t want to get caught unaware or miss out on a detail that could make even the tiniest difference in this war. He hadn’t gotten truly drunk since the Christmas that Marlene died.

No, that wasn’t true anymore, though. Now it had been three days since he was last sober.

They had been in deep undercover, Peter, Sirius, and him, staying in a shitty flat in East London and inhaling a steady stream of Polyjuice Potion as they attempted to uncover a lower-level ring of Voldemort supporters. The Death Eaters had begun appealing to the lower-class wizards, saying that the Muggleborns were the reason they were in such poverty and low social status, that these outsiders were stealing jobs and positions that were rightfully theirs due to the higher quality of their blood and lineage. It hurt James’s brain to think about, that Voldemort was twisting the pain of a people for his own purposes, and that people were so easily seduced by their own greed that they were willing to overlook another person’s humanity. What terrified James most about Voldemort wasn’t the power of his killing curse, but his silver tongue.

They had gone in disguise to one of these underground meetings, discontented witches and wizards that Voldemort wouldn’t truly let join his ranks of Death Eaters (still not high enough of a pedigree to be seen with) but wanted as his populist supporters nonetheless. Whispers were going around the room that Voldemort wanted to come out of the shadows and well and truly seize power as Minister of Magic, rather than using puppets in his place. This would change the very face of the war; the eradication of Muggles and Muggleborns would no longer be taken upon by extremist fringe groups, but become a systematic task of the formal government.

But this was not like the typical rich kid piss-arounds or blue-blood nose-in-the-air soirees that James had come to associate the Death Eaters with, and the whispers did not stay whispers for long. The blood in the room was boiling so hot that James felt his own hands grow slick in the heat, the strength of the liquor being passed around growing in direct correlation with the strength of the language being used.

Merlin, James had thought he knew monsters, but this was some new breed. For some reason the first word that came to mind to describe them was _cannibal_. The way they talked about the Muggles, the Muggleborns, as if they were less than human, chilled him to the bone. They were willing to pile up as many bodies as they needed to, as long as they elevated themselves in the process.

And then there were the sick fucks who used this cause as a masquerade for their twisted fantasies, the ones who talked about the killings, tortures, worse, with not the religious fervor of the Death Eaters or the unmuted rage of the extremists, but a kind of gleeful anticipation. In the claustrophobic basement of a tenement building, with the kind of words flying that James had only heard before in the worst Dark magic books and a collective hatred that was beginning to suffocate him, the three boys in disguise would pass each other and pat a shoulder, touch a wrist, to anchor them, to remind each other that this sick hatred was not all there was in the world.

Maybe some mistake had been made in the latest batch of Polyjuice Potion, or maybe the alcohol had thrown off the concoction; maybe it was the sheer force of the voice inside of James’s head that was screaming for him to _get out_. Whatever it was, something had gone wrong, and in the middle of a sea of hot-blooded chavs James’s mousy brown hair began to turn back to its distinctive black.

Merlin, James had never ditched a party faster in his life, and he’d been in more than one sticky situation where he had needed to make a speedy exit. He, Sirius, and Peter were speed-walking down the dark streets of East London, trying to find a good spot to apparate the fuck away, when the first shot of red sparks narrowly missed Sirius’s head, singeing his rapidly lengthening hair.

 _Fuck_ , it had gotten bad, _fast_. A group of that special brand of psychopath had followed them out of the meeting, obviously noticing the suspicious waning of their disguises, and it seemed they had no interest in asking questions first.

They fought dirty, ugly, using back alley Dark Magic that was the stuff of Voldemort’s wet dreams. Within minutes Peter’s leg was mangled like a rotten vegetable and the side of Sirius’s face was blistering, the welts bursting with the occasional sloppy _pop_! The skin on his own left hand was peeling back like he was being skinned alive, courtesy of a wild-eyed redhead that was spewing profanities that James had never even heard of, could barely understand.

But the intent was clear.

Three of them had Peter cornered, trying to get off his trousers while he screamed _no no no_ , while he and Sirius desperately fought off the remaining five, and _fuck_ it had all gone to hell so fast James felt his head spin just remembering it. And he swore that those were not the words he meant to stay, that it was the drink or the heat of the moment or maybe even divine fucking providence for that shit-smear of a human being, but none of that mattered in the end. Because it was his wand and his words and his eyes watching the light leave the redhead wizard’s for good.  

 _Avada Kedavra_. Two little words was all it took.

James took another long sip.

It had ended quickly after that, and the lads cleared out of their undercover flat quick, as soon as Peter was healed enough to manage a limp. Fleeing, that’s what they were doing, a miserably failed mission after weeks of work and a dead body in their wake.

They were hiding out now at the Safe House that Frank and Alice were running in Bristol. Trying to recover, trying to escape their nightmares, trying to get their fucking shit together because all three of them were falling apart.

And as always James was left to clean up the mess ( _his mess this time_ ), fill out the reports and the paperwork and try to get their story straight.

It was the first time James had used the Killing Curse. He had never realized how many layers there were to the weight that hung over murder, over taking someone else’s life.

First, there was the knowledge that he would have to stand up in front of the Order of the Phoenix committee and tell them what he had done. Unforgivables were forbidden in the Order, an attempt to keep them all from turning into the monsters they were fighting.

( _Was he a monster now?_ )

He would have to tell Professor Dumbledore. He would see the disappoint in Minerva McGonnagal’s eyes. _Fuck_ , he would have to tell Lily.

( _James refilled his glass at the thought_.)

Then there was the ringing of the name in his ears – _Kane Durst_ _Kane Durst Kane Durst_ – the name he’d found in the Prophet, just a footnote, the next day.

 _A part-time employee of Borgin and Burkes, Durst leaves behind a wife and two children._  

Durst had been a psychopath but _fuck_ , he was still human. That name, _his name_ , would be engraved on a tombstone. That name, _that man_ , would be mourned by a family of three, all wearing black.

How many times had James been to that same funeral? How many names had he mourned? How many times had he been left behind?

The final weight that was slowly suffocating James, causing him to try to drown himself in whiskey, was the stark truth that he had killed, that he had the kind of darkness in him that could summon the pure evil of the Killing Curse. And the lingering question:

_Could he do it again?_

  

* * *

 

James wasn’t quite sure what time it was when he wandered into The Mucky Duck – he had lost all sense of time about halfway through the bottle – but he knew it wasn’t the kind of time when normal people were awake and functioning. So he should have been surprised when he found Lily on her hands and knees in the middle of the pub floor, furiously scrubbing at an age-old bloodstain with a worn-out toothbrush, soap bubbles surrounding her and soaking through her jeans.

But he wasn’t.

Because deep down he knew he would find her here, didn’t he? He was like a compass, but instead of pointing north he was always gravitating towards her. What was that he used to say about them?

 _Inevitable_.

Lily looked up when he walked in, just a bleary, vacant blink in his general direction before she turned back to the work at hand, and in that single glance James _knew_ that some shit had gone down. She just looked wilted, drained, _empty_ in a way that he could entirely relate to.

Yes, it was obvious that something had driven her to where she was now, the skin on her hands cracking from the rough soap and the circles under her eyes classified more as suitcases at this point, rather than just bags. James knew she had her reasons that night, but then so did he.

And before that night he had never fully understood this particular tic of Lily’s, the obsessive, manual Muggle-style cleaning when faced with a crisis, but he thought that he got a least a tiny part of it now. Tonight he needed distance from his reality, distance from his wand and the curse that had defiled it, made it feel _wrong_ in his hands. He needed distance from _magic_. And it looked like these mind-numbing chores could give it to him.

Crisis-Lily or not, though, there was still that fissure between them, that gaping wound in their relationship that neither of them seemed willing to take the first step to heal. They would not be dramatically falling into each other’s arms, giving themselves a happily ever after as they miraculously overcame all of their problems. No, not this night.

But maybe that’s not what either of them needed. Maybe, tonight, it was just enough to be in the same room, silently working away, finding the smallest comfort in being in each other’s orbit once more.  

So James went to the utility closet and grabbed his own bucket and sponge, joining Lily in that impossible quest to wash away their demons.

 

* * *

 

Lily’s brain didn’t actually process James’s appearance until five minutes after he first arrived. Her head suddenly shot up and her eyes widened as she took him in across the pub, scrubbing at a scuffed area near the door with a work ethic that Lily had never seen him apply to any other form of cleanliness in his life.

The sense of warmth that she felt at seeing that muss of hair, that little crease of concentration between his eyebrows, was instantaneous and such a fucking _relief_.

Like she’d just been given permission to breathe.

She still felt it, that sense of guilt rotting at her core, knew that because of who she was that she would always feel it. But, around him, she felt it just a tiny bit less. Around James, it was almost bearable.

Lily was on her feet before she even consciously realized it, taking a step towards him as naturally as if the world had tilted towards him. But she stopped, almost stumbling, when she took in the tension in his shoulders, a haunted look shrouding him, an unapproachableness that she had never, _ever_ seen in his eyes before.

And for all the times he had held her while she cried, talked her through one heartbreak after another, she had no idea how to give that same comfort. She would rip her heart out of her own chest and gift it to him if she thought it would make him feel any better. But she didn’t even know where _they_ stood, if he hated her, if she was one of those weights that was bowing his shoulders in pain. She had no idea if she went to him if he would even accept her arms, her embrace, her love.

So she went for a Hail Mary. The last thing that she would ever think of doing in this kind of situation; hell, the last thing that _any_ sane person would ever do. But she was desperate, and nothing between her and James was ever normal, and for some strange reason this just felt like the thing to do.

She was insane. She had finally lost it. She was crossing the room and getting out her old record player from underneath the sink and, like a complete madwoman, was setting up her favorite record.

The opening chords rang out in the silent room, and Lily began to sing.

_If you change your mind, I’m the first in line_

_Honey I’m still free_

_Take a chance on me_

James’s head snapped up, staring at her in complete and utter confusion as she awkwardly stood in the middle of the room, belting out ABBA lyrics while her trainers were slowly soaked with soap bubbles.

_If you need me, let me know, gonna be around_

_If you’ve got no place to go, if you’re feeling down_

And then he quirked an eyebrow in such a _James_ way that Lily couldn’t help but grin back, and maybe her mad plan could work, maybe they could create a little pocket of unreality where it didn’t feel like a moral betrayal to smile, just in the space of this song.

So she smiled wider and began to follow the steps of a dance she had made up alone in her room when the record first came out, finger guns and hula arms and just every kind of ridiculous move that no one was ever meant to see.

But then just the tiniest bit of a smile cracked James’s features and _fuck_ it was worth it.

_If you’re all alone when the pretty birds have flown_

_Honey I’m still free_

_Take a chance on me_

_Gonna do my very best and it ain’t no lie_

_If you put me to the test, if you let me try_

Lily twirled toward James, grabbing at his hands and laughing at the bewildered look on his face as she pulled him to his feet.

“What in the world are you doing?” he asked, still looking confused and a bit suspicious, standing there woodenly while she danced around him.

“Oh, just - I honestly don’t know,” Lily replied with a shrug, “Maybe I’ve finally cracked? Might as well enjoy a few good songs before I’m shipped off to St. Mungo’s, yeah?”

“You’re an absolute loon, did you know that Lils?” James remarked, but now there was a real grin on his face, a _James_ grin, and it was better than a shot of Firewhisey, the rush it gave her, “We should call you Loony Lily.”

“Very original,” she replied with a roll of her eyes as she continued to show off her best ( _worst_ ) moves, “And we could call you – well, shit, there’s honestly not that many good words to go with James.”

“How I escaped much bullying in my youth,” James said loftily.

Lily only snorted in reply, before kicking off her trainers. “Here,” she told him, “Take off your shoes; socks are _much_ better for dancing on wooden floors. Trust me, I’m an expert.”

“So many hidden layers,” James said as he slid off his own shoes, then suddenly kicked over the bucket he had previously been using to wash the floors. “James!” Lily shrieked in protest, but he shushed her, pulling out his wand and twirling it around arrogantly in his fingers. “Trust _me_ , this is a Potter specialty.” And with a flick of his wand, the soap bubbles suddenly doubled, quadrupled, multiplied until they were surrounding by a sea of foam.

 Just then the record player switched tracks, and Lily let out  an ear-splitting squeal. “James! It’s my _song_!”

_Ooooh_

_You can dance_

_You can ji-ive_

_Having the time of your life_

_Ooh, see that girl_

_Watch that scene_

_Diggin’ the dancing queen_

They were slipping and sliding all across the sudsy floor, hands and feet flying as if they were at their own personal disco. They were laughing, falling over each other on the slippery wood, throwing foam at each other, Lily intermittently shouting the lyrics at the top of her lungs:

_You are the dancing queen_

_Young and sweet_

_Only seventeen_

_Dancing queen_

_Feel the beat of the tambourine, oh yeah_

_You can dance_

_You can ji-ive_

_Having the time of your life_

_Ooh, see that girl_

_Watch that scene_

_Diggin’ the dancing queen_

“Oh, I really do feel like the dancing queen tonight,” James laughed as she spun into his arms, and how had she never noticed the way the corners of his eyes crinkled just the tiniest but when he smiled? 

And sure, he smelled just the tiniest bit too strongly of booze, and her limbs still felt weak from not eating, and there was still that _thing_ between them, but the feel of being in his arms again, of feeling the shake of his chest as he laughed, the sight of his t-shirt clinging to his skin as it was soaked in soap bubbles? 

 _Fuck_ , it was everything.

One moment they were sharing crooked grins through the sea of foam, and the next they came crashing together, two magnets that had been separated for _too damn long_.

It was wet and messy, teeth clashing together and too much tongue, as if they were trying to devour each other. Every touch was frenzied, frantic, their fingers tracing paths on each other’s bodies that they had not forgotten ( _could never be forgotten_ ) but that they had desperately missed nonetheless. Clothes came off one soaked piece after another as they completely forgot where they were, _when_ they were, caught up as they were in their worship of the other’s body.

They stumbled over their clothing and through the puddles they had made until Lily felt her back hit a wall, and she was relieved she had ended up there when her knees nearly buckled as James began kissing his way down her body.

“Fuck, Lils, I’ve missed you,” he said in a voice so low she might have missed it if she didn’t notice the way his lips whispered the words against her skin, sending shivers up her spine. And it felt like the words weren’t really for her, were more like a prayer as he reverently spread his touch _everywhere_ , but she didn’t care, she had heard anyway, and nothing he was doing (even _that_ ) could compare to the heat blooming in her chest at the knowledge that he had missed her, thought of her, maybe ( _probably?_ ) didn’t hate her.

She pulled him up off his knees at that thought because she needed his lips, needed to taste him ( _and her head went fuzzy as she tasted herself on his tongue, a strange, sinous aphrodisiac_ ). “James, please,” she moaned against his lips because _there was too much space between them_ , fuck there had been for far too long, how had she ever let him get so far away? It was senseless, _criminal_ , this space between them and-

There was no more room for thought because suddenly there _was_ no more space, no more _anything_ ; nothing existed except James’s hands holding her up as he rolled his hips into hers, the wanting ache as he drove into her, her head falling back and her eyes closing at the sheer _everything_ of it all.

It was the same weightlessness, the same stomach-dropping thrill as when she had ridden her first broom. There was a terror of it ending, even as they both eagerly rushed towards that enticing conclusion. Lily held tightly onto his shoulders, fingernails nearly piercing his skin when he began to hit _right there_ , and _fuck_ when had he gotten so strong, she could feel the corded muscles in his back moving as he ground against her, a kind of _power_ behind his movements that she’d never felt before.

“It’s just us, baby,” James murmured into her ear, punctuating the sentence with a strong thrust and a throaty groan that made Lily’s toes curl, “Just you and me.”

The words grounded her, reminded her so forcefully that this was _James_ , her James, and she loved him so damn much, was so much a part of her that she was sure a scientist could find it written in her DNA. And he loved her too, despite it all, despite all she was and all they had been through, loved her in that same maddening way.

And they had done it, done the impossible, created a little pocket outside of time where only they existed, where nothing mattered except that heartbreaking first smile of his, the beating of his heart, the feel of his skin against hers. His ragged breath the only sound she heard, the sweat beading on his forehead the only sight that mattered. In that moment, in _every_ moment, he was her everything, her entire world.

“Just you and me,” Lily repeated back with a ragged breath as she felt herself falling, falling, in so many ways, “Always, James, just you and me _always.”_

 

* * *

 

It was shy touches of their fingers as they returned each other’s clothes, small smiles as they said their goodnights. Still so much between them, pushing them together and pulling them apart at the same time. But that night, they had saved each other. And as they lay in bed, miles and miles apart, they were able to hold on to the memory of the other’s laughter, the other’s touch, and finally, _finally_ find peace in sleep.


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I updated in less than a month, even after posting a one-shot earlier this month, woot! All credit goes to Castle Crew for being the most encouraging group of human beings I have ever met, and to my glorious coffee shop that has the comfiest chairs to write in. And, as I do every day, I thank the gods of music for bringing Carly Rae Jepsen into this world, who is always my inspiration for fluffier pieces. And that's what this is, a fluff chapter! 1/10 on the angst scale! Thank you all for reading, I love you more than Blue Apron boxes and that is fucking saying something.

31.

 

 

James felt like he had shed twenty pounds as he breathed in the crisp February air. The sharp wind cut through his thick wool jumper, but he cherished the way it whipped through his skin, clearing out all the toxicity that had taken root in his veins.

 

The sun was setting as he waited on the crest of the hill overlooking the Whomping Willow. He knew he probably should be waiting discreetly in the Shrieking Shack, but he couldn’t help himself; he wanted to see the look on his friend’s face, that first glimpse.

 

And there he was, bowed back and a haggard, haunted look barely shrouded by his five o’clock shadow: Remus John Lupin. James held his breath, waiting for his friend to look up; he had an awful habit of always looking at his shoes as he walked, hiding his face submissively as if apologizing for his very existence. But finally he raised his eyes resignedly to look at the Whomping Willow. There a pause, before he really took them in, where James could see that awful look of fear and dread that he always noticed that split second before Remus’s transformation, when he thought none of them were looking. Fuck, in those moments he looked like what James imagined he had when he was first bitten at five years old, so scared and small and _alone._

 

But then Remus caught sight of his three best friends waiting for him on the hill, broad grins stretching across their faces, and the smile of surprise, of joy, of _relief_ that crossed Remus’s face hit James in the chest like a Stun. Merlin, he had missed his friend.

 

James hadn’t heard even a whisper about Remus since he had snuck out of the Safe House that dark Christmas morning, and Merlin, had he tried. He had bullied, begged, bribed Dumbledore to send him word, but the Headmaster had reorganized the Order after all the trouble with the mole, different missions operating in sort of cells so that it was more difficult for information to leak out, and easier to identify the mole. They hadn’t made any headway in finding the spy, but it had definitely stemmed the leak out information, for now.

 

The downside was that at any given moment James had no idea where most of his friends were, what they were doing. All he knew was that Remus was deep undercover with the werewolves, receiving reassurances from Dumbledore every couple of weeks that he was still indeed alive.

 

He was working really hard to not resent Lily for letting their friend leave without saying a real goodbye, and the way her jaw tightened just the tiniest bit whenever he brought up him up. James had a feeling that Lily was one of the people in Remus’s cell, or at least that they had some means of communication set up, that she knew more than she was letting on. He was trying to not let all of the secrets between them get to them because if nothing else their coinciding meltdowns a couple of weeks ago proved that they were shit without each other. They were sleeping in the same bed again, talking again (albeit with guarded words), even smiling again sometimes. I mean, what the hell was he fighting for if not for her, for the woman who he loved so much it made his head spin?

 

Sometimes James had those gruesome thoughts that one had in war time, those ones you did your best to keep out but still didn’t stop your brain from going there. He thought about what he would happen, how he would react if Lily died, if she left him behind. And he had come to the conclusion that he would probably spontaneously combust if that ever happened. He could not imagine a world, a reality, where he existed and she didn’t.

 

So he was doing his best to forgive her, for the secrets and the Remus thing, because it seemed like a waste of fucking time, a waste of his existence, to stay away.

 

Some days were better than others.

 

So it continued, Lily seeming to know more than James about their missing friend and him trying not to ask too many question. Until this morning, that is, when he had received an urgent summons from the Headmaster for him, Sirius, and Peter to report to Hogwarts that evening.

 

Surprises had lost all positive connotations over the past few years; seldom had any good come of them. Even fewer positive outcomes had come of a conversation with Dumbledore (sad to say, because James had always liked talking to the professor before the war). But this time, when they reported under the cover of James’s invisibility cloak to the Headmaster’s office, the wizard had greeted them with a mysterious smile.

 

“Do you know what day it is?” Dumbledore had asked the three boys as they came to stand in front of his desk.

 

“The full moon,” James had replied reflexively, barely a breath ahead of the other two as they echoed his assertion. It was ingrained in all of the Marauders, the calendar of the moon, the cycle that they had lived by for years. Even with the absence of their resident werewolf, the three boys tracked the moon cycle out of habit, as natural for them as breathing.

 

Dumbledore smiled at their answer, but their seemed to be a sadness, a longing behind those piercing blue eyes of his, maybe even a shadow of jealousy. James wondered when the last time Dumbledore had a true friend; he seemed so far away from all of them, elevated, unreachable. Was it lonely?

 

James was distracted from his absentminded musings when the Headmaster began to speak. “The devotion and loyalty between your group of friends has always impressed me,” Dumbledore said with a faint smile, “Always given me hope. And I think your friend, Mr. Lupin, is in need of a little hope as well. He is coming to report to me in about an hour, and is staying overnight in the Shrieking Shack for the full moon. He has had a very difficult month, to say the least, and I believe he would benefit much by the support you three are able to give him during his transformation, such as it is.” The Headmaster gave them an appraising look; Dumbledore had known since their school years that the three Marauders had found some way to help Remus out with his transformations. He had never seemed to try and figure out exactly how they did it, though; whether he was doing out of his own self-preservation, or simply trusting the discretion of the boys, James had never known. If he had to guess, though, he would probably say the former.

 

“You’re not having one over on us, are you?” Sirius asked, eyeing the professor suspiciously, disbelievingly.

 

“Is he back for good then?” Peter asked, wringing his hands, trying like the rest of them to not get his hopes up too much. They had all been burned, and James hated the way they distrusted good news.

 

“I am not having one over on you, Mr. Black, you have my word,” Dumbledore said with a slight smile before turning more seriously to Peter, “And my apologies, Mr. Pettigrew, but there is still much work to be done in the werewolf communities. Sadly Mr. Lupin will only be here for the night.”

 

“It-it doesn’t matter,” James said quickly, his mind trying to catch up with the way his heart was racing, “Just, when can we see him? Is he here, now?”

 

“He will be here in a quarter hour,” Dumbledore replied, “He will still need to give me his report before he is able to join you. I suggest you use the time to perhaps revisit the grounds, take advantage of the fresh air and the luxury of, for the time being, having nowhere else to be.” He looked at the three of them with concern in his eyes. “I know the past few months have felt like one trial after another. I encourage you to enjoy your freedom and friendship tonight; remind yourselves what it is you have been fighting so hard for.”

 

As the four best friends, _the Marauders_ , were reunited under the setting sun on the grounds of Hogwarts, where it all began, James acknowledged the wisdom of Dumbledore’s words. Voldemort and his followers, all they talked about was blood, blood, blood. So obsessed with keeping the blood lines pure that they were even willing to marry their relations to keep the magic in the family. So obsessed were they with that bit of fluid running through their veins that they missed the big picture.

 

It is not blood that makes a family.

 

And here, surrounded by three boys that were more than his friends, that were his _brothers_ , James was living proof. He had felt so alone all of his childhood, always yearning for a sibling despite the love his parents lavished on him. He had always felt like there was something off about his life, something missing, as if he had been born without a limb.

 

And then he had met the other Marauders, Remus, Sirius, and Peter, and he no longer felt sense of phantom limb. He felt like, with them around, he had grown into himself, grown into his life.

 

That makeshift family of theirs had grown and grown over the years, adopting the other Gryffindor girls, those at the Safe House. Hell, the entire Order felt like James’s extended family.

 

But it always came back to them, the four boys who had bonded over mischief and the moon.

 

Fuck, James would do anything for them. And that’s when it hit him, that thing at the very core of all he was fighting for: a future for his brothers. He was fighting for the day when Peter didn’t have to be so scared, for the day when Sirius wasn’t weighed down by his family name. Fighting for the day when the label of ‘werewolf’ was no longer the defining feature of Remus’s life, just a footnote. James was fighting to see his friends fall in love, grow old, _find happiness_.

 

As the last rays of the sun fell down to rest and the boys scurried down the secret tunnel under the Whomping Willow, James joked and laughed with them, feeling that overwhelming sense of _home_.

 

* * *

 

It had been another long, long, _long_ day for Lily Evans.

 

Really, how had it only been twenty-four hours? Lately, her individual days felt like they stretched out for weeks; they were layered like sedimentary rock, overlapping hours of being on watch, missions, research with Regulus, and then that ever soul-sucking weight of worry all stacked on top of each other until Lily felt like she was being buried alive, desperately trying to run a sprint through a desert of quicksand. 

 

When she finally made it to bed she would restlessly toss and turn, unable to fall asleep with the knowledge that she had to wake up and do it all over again.

 

The most tiring part of it all was that she felt like she still wasn’t making any headway. For every Death Eater the Order took out, three more stepped forward to take their place; for every family they saved, three were buried in the ground.

 

And for every question she and Regulus answered about their new discovery, these Horcrux things as they learned they were called in that ancient Sumerian text, three more questions popped up in their place.

 

Lily had just finished with another exhausting research session, hours poring over texts in every language imaginable just to find three single sentences about the damn things, none of which gave them anything other than that they were a disgrace to humanity and should never be created. How to create them, and what they really were, was never specified, and Lily felt like banging her head against the wall.

 

Which is how she found herself strolling the Hogwarts grounds that evening. She just felt so restless in her own skin after coming across dead-end after dead-end, and she just needed to _do_ something, accomplish something, throw a couple positive points into the universe; Merlin knew she could use some good karma.

 

And she knew she could give back to the world that night at the Great Lake, a place where she had found solace for so many years. She used to come down to the edge of the water whenever the stress of school built up too much, the stress of the impending war, liked to watch the stillness of the water on quiet, moonless evenings. And then, she would stick her toes in the water and splash just a tiny bit; she liked to watch the water ripple, liked to see how far it spread. It made her feel less small in this great big world, reminded her that she could make an impact more far-reaching than she could ever imagine.

 

That’s how she had found Lily, a young mermaid with striking red hair against her ashy grey skin. At first Lily had been startled and frightened by the sudden appearance of the unexpected visitor from the deep, having heard all kinds of stories from wizarding lore, none of which were terribly kind to the aquatic beings. But the young mermaid only seemed curious, and adorably excited about finding another being with red hair; apparently she was a quite a rarity amongst the merpeople.

 

It had taken more time than Lily would ever like to admit, but eventually, after studying and butchering the Mermish language, she was able to communicate with the mermaid, who she called Ceara as that was the closest to the whistling tone that she could pronounce. She learned that Ceara had been drawn in by the ripples on the surface that could almost always be found on a Tuesday night, like clockwork.

 

Lily had laughed at that; she had Arithmancy late Tuesday afternoons, and was always near a mental breakdown by the end of the lesson, half in tears by the time the homework had been assigned. She hadn’t even noticed that pattern in her lakeside visits.

 

Ceara had been a surprisingly good friend, despite the language and culture barriers. They talked about frustrations with their families (apparently Ceara had six older sisters and was constantly feuding with at least two), boy troubles (Merlin did her mermaid friend know _way_ too much about one James Potter), and about the uncertainty of their futures. Ceara was worried about the war as well, and the implications of what the rise of Voldemort meant for those beings dubbed “less than human”. She had dreams of one day becoming a representative for aquatic beings in the Wizard Ministry, despite the elders of her Mermish community being strongly in favor of an isolationist approach to land beings.

 

The mermaid was also the one who had given her name to Dumbledore when the problems in the kelpie community had grown, had suggested her knowing her interest in potions and Healing. It had been ages, though, since Lily had caught up with Ceara, not since she had dropped off the map during her brief stint in the Muggleborn Resistance. She was a bit ashamed about neglecting her duties towards the aquatic community, hadn’t heard anything about how things had progressed in the kelpie community after all of the attacks, and wanted to see if she was needed again.

 

( _Secretly hoped she was needed again, sick as that was, that she could use her hands for healing in something that wasn’t a hopeless case._ )

 

Lily knelt down at the edge of the lake, sitting so that her feet dangled daintily in the water as she had so many evenings before. She whistled a song that the Ceara had taught her if she ever needed her, sharp and eerie so it gave her the chills, even though she was the one carrying the tune. She wondered what significance it held for them, what story it told; merpeople were a surprisingly sentimental bunch. They saw themselves as guardians of the sea, would do anything to protect the beauty of its inhabitants, the mysteries of its depths. They were such a tight knit group, so guarded, but the moment they accepted you, saw you as one of their brood, they were incredibly protective and fiercely loyal.

 

That loyalty is how Lily knew that, even after all this time, Ceara would respond to her song.

 

Sure enough a splash of red soon stained the surface of the Great Lake, a series of whistles and gargles signaling her friend’s arrival. It took Lily a moment to sort out the unfamiliar sounds, and she wished she had taken a moment to skim over her favorite book on Mermish before she came, but she translated as best she could on the fly.

 

 _“Flower!”_ the mermaid call to her, the nickname the best translation the two of them could come up for for Lily’s name, _“I have not heard from you in many tides! Are you okay?_ ”

 

  _“Sorry for disappearing,”_ Lily whistled in reply, cringing at her rusty pronunciations as Ceara seemed to try to hide her giggles, _“A lot happened, but I am back for good now. How have things been here? Have the attacks quieted down? I know I need to check on the kelpie herd again soon.”_

 

 _“I am actually glad you are here,”_ Ceara replied, all joking vanishing from her face, and her jagged-tooth smile fading into a grim line, _“Word has come that there have been attacks off the Green Islands on both the selkie and kelpie communities.”_

 

Lily nodded solemnly; the Green Islands were a rough translation for what the merpeople called Ireland. If anti-humanoid attacks were spreading that far, it did not bode well for humanoid peoples in all of Europe, let alone the British Isles. _“I will do what I can,”_ Lily told the mermaid, _“Just send them my way. I will try to come up with some way for you to contact me, but until then tell the selkies and kelpies that I will be at my spot in the Beauly Firth every seventh day at dusk, starting tomorrow_.” Lily looked up at the sky briefly, _“Tell them to start counting after today, the night of the full moon.”_

 

The mermaid raised her head sharply, eyes widening at the sight of the bright and shining full moon. “ _Full moon?!”_ she squeaked in alarm, _“Flower, what are you doing here? You know the wolf roams at night, it is not safe for humans!”_

 

Lily gave her a gentle smile. “ _The wolf moved away years ago,”_ she told her, _“Don’t you remember?”_

The reminder of her werewolf friend troubled Lily. She wondered where he was that night; when he had first left he had sent letters to update her on his progress in the werewolf packs nearly every week. She wasn’t technically supposed to be in communication with him, wasn’t in the same cell as him or anything. But she supposed she was an outlet for Remus, a way to connect with the real world. And she was really the only safe option: for one she had extensive safeguards set up for this kind of covert communication. There was also the fact that he knew that, despite loving him like a brother, she wouldn’t overreact to his bleak reports and frustrated venting the way any of the Marauders would; they would pull a big brother quicker faster than Lily could apparate, doing whatever it took to hunt him down and save him from the situation.

 

However, it had been a fortnight since she had last heard from him. Even though she knew their correspondence wasn’t exactly above board, she had been sorely tempted to march into Dumbledore’s office and demand a status report.

 

( _It fucking terrified her that he could be dead right now and she wouldn’t even know._ )

 

Ceara shook her head vigorously, drawing Lily’s attention away from her own troubled thoughts, glancing out at the fringes of the forest nearby every few second in obvious fear. _“No, no, no Flower!”_ she seemed to almost shriek, _“You must leave now! The Giant Squid, the big gossip, told me on my way up that it had caught sight of the wolf and its little pack of friends during its evening surfacing earlier! You are in great danger!”_

 

Now Lily was growing nervous. She had learned long ago from the merpeople that the Giant Squid seemed to know everything about what happened in the castle and on the grounds, something about the piping, and if it had taken the time to tell Ceara about it then it was almost certainly true.

 

The witch let out a stream of obscene Mermish curses, withdrawing her feet from the water as she quickly stood up. _“I’ll get out of here, don’t worry,”_ she told her friend as she tried to dry her feet on the grass _, “Like I said, send the selkies and kelpies my way. I’ll be back sometime in the next moon cycle to check in, I promise.”_

 

Ceara nodded hurriedly, shooing her off with her webbed hands. _“Hurry!”_ she whistled, before withdrawing back to the depths of the lake with a flip of her tail.

 

Lily scrambled into her shoes, shaking fingers fumbling with the laces. _What the fuck is he doing here?_ she thought, equal parts anxious and angry. Remus was supposed to be on mission, not fucking romping around the Hogwarts grounds on a transformation night. Merlin, the danger it put the students in! Lily knew that while he was at Hogwarts the teachers had put in special safeguards to keep students from accidentally running into the werewolf on nights of the full moon, but he hadn’t gone to Hogwarts in _years_. No way they were prepared for this! Anyone (well any idiot rulebreakers like a certain gang of young men she knew) could be out this night!

 

And half of that anger she felt brewing up in her chest as she slipped on her trainers came from the fact that he _hadn’t told her_. Hadn’t told her he was back in town, hadn’t told her he was done with the mission, just hadn’t fucking checked up on her in general. And, _fuck him_ , she had taken all the heat when he had slipped out of town on Christmas day without a word to any of his best friends, and she’d taken it _willingly_ to protect the boy who was a brother to her.

 

 _Fuck him, fuck him, fuck him_. The least he could do was owl her.

 

The fear, though, was finally catching up with her as she desperately searched through the overgrown grass near the bank of the lake for her discarded wand. Fucking hell, she needed to get off the grounds so she could apparate _quick_. Merlin knew she couldn’t fight off a full-grown werewolf, not by herself, and she needed to get the hell out of there before she was mincemeat.

 

That’s when she heard a long, piercing howl shatter the stillness of the night.

 

* * *

 

 

James’s heart felt like it was going to break his ribs, the way it was beating do hard. He had never felt fear, cold like frozen shards of glass ripping up his veins, as he did in that moment, as he watched Lily standing paralyzed by the bank of the Great Lake. She looked like a deer in the headlights, her piercing green eyes so wide he could see them even from such a distance, imagery he might have been amused by if he wasn’t in a race against time, a race against a wolf.

 

Even in his stag form, James had some kind of supernatural Lily-radar. He had strayed from the rest of the pack a few minutes ago, following an unusual scent that led him towards the very edge of the Forbidden Forest, near the boundary that ran parallel to the Great Lake. It was there that it hit, some hidden instinct that was neither stag nor human but fully _James_ , and he felt like every hair in his thick hide had stood on end.

 

_Lily._

 

She was pretty as a picture, her toes playing in the water while she twirled a stray lock of her hair around her finger; James had watched this very scene a dozen times before, sitting under that old beech tree while he pretended his best not to notice her, sneaking glances every few seconds. He noticed then that she was talking to a _mermaid_ of all things, and he was hit all over again like it was the first time how unbelievably brilliant she was to be fluent in _Mermish_ , how wonderfully strange she was, how the light she brought to the world rivaled that all of the full moon that shone above her.

 

It was that thought that brought him back to reality.

 

It was like the forest had dropped twenty degrees, and James felt it to the very bone. Somewhere out in the forest was Remus, but also _not_ Remus, that wolf side of him that was so playful with his Animagus pack but could turn so deadly in an instant. And James had been on his own for quite a while now; the pack would be looking for him. It was only a matter of time before they decided to track him to the edge of the forest, a matter of time before the wolf caught Lily’s scent on that late winter breeze.

 

And when that happened, all bets were off. And they were all fucked.

 

Suddenly Lily’s whole body language changed. She straightened and began fumbling with her shoes, her hands trembling, her chest rising and falling at an ever-quickening pace. In his stag form, James could smell the fear, the adrenaline, that had taken over her bloodstream.

 

 _She knew_.

 

It was Lily’s own fear that finally spurred James into action, and he tried to focus his frantic mind enough to _shift._ He felt his bone pulling apart, rearranging, shrinking, growing, each part of his body taking an ounce of his energy as it became something completely different from what it was before. Small knobs of his antlers were still shrinking into his messy hair when James took off at a run, sprinting faster than he ever had; old Quidditch and Auror training kicked in as he pushed off the dewy grass with such force that he imagined tremors rumbling through the ground. The desperation, it was like a drug, and he was begging for hit after hit if only it got him to her faster.

 

“ _LILY!_ ”

 

His fevered shout snapped Lily out of whatever fear-induced trance she had been caught in, and her eyes widened impossibly farther as she took in his scraped-up and dust-covered covered appearance, hell, his appearance _at all_.

 

“What the hell are you doing here?” she demanded, her anxiety-induced gasping matching his own as he tried to catch his breath from his sprint.

 

James nearly had an aneurism at the accusation in her voice. “I should be saying the same to you!” he shouted back, or at least the closest he could get to a shout as he tried to drag in air, out of breath from his dead sprint, hands on his knees, “Merlin, Lily, it’s a full moon, you _know_ you shouldn’t be out here!”

 

“I thought Remus was still on mission,” Lily gasped, “I didn’t know he was on the grounds until Ceara told me just know!” And even though she sounded pissed she was touching him with trembling hands, on his arm, his shoulder, any bit of skin like she was trying to use him to anchor herself, anchor her to reality, trying to get her brain back in order.

 

 _Who the fuck is Ceara?_ James started to wonder, before realizing that there were just too many questions, on both their parts, but every second they stood there they were running out of time. “Just – we’ll talk about it later,” James said desperately, looking around as he tiredly ran a hand through the hair that was flattened against his forehead with sweat, “We need to get out of here, they could be here any moment, and Sirius will only be able to hold him off for so long.” He grabbed Lily’s hand, dragging her across the grounds, feeling her stumbling behind him as she tried to keep up.

 

“Are you crazy?! Sirius can’t hold off a werewolf by himself!” Lily shouted in between her little gasps, “And where are we going? Aren’t we headed towards the castle, or off the grounds?”

 

James knew she was going to think she was crazy, and he would have to explain, and _fuck_ , shit was gonna hit the fan, but he knew this was the closest place, the _only_ place to keep Lily safe.

 

And that is why James was dragging them at full tilt towards the Whomping Willow.

 

“Just trust me!” James shouted back at her, hoping Lily caught the way he was _begging_ with his voice, as they quickly came upon the murderous tree. He stopped just short of the whipping branches, raising his wand as he had done dozens of times before and shouting, “ _Immobulus!_ ”

 

Lily stood frozen, gazing in wonder as the tree suddenly froze. “Hurry, hurry,” James said, ignoring the many questions he knew were bubbling on the tip of her tongue as he shoved her forward towards the paralyzed. He needed to move faster, _faster_ , because maybe some of his stag senses had stuck with him through his hurried transformation or maybe it was just plain old fight or flight, but somehow James could tell that Remus was getter closer, was almost _here_.

 

“There’s a hollow, just below that knob, see?” James said hurriedly, “There’s a passageway and it leads to an old house. I need you to go up to the second floor, there’s a bedroom. Lock yourself in there, reinforce the door, whatever you need to do. Do _not_ come out until I tell you it’s clear. Got it?” His hands had somehow gotten onto her shoulders and he was shaking her, as if he could force the words into her skull, but he had to stop, had to let her go because _fuck shit he was here_.

 

“I don’t – what’s going on James?” Lily asked with wide, terrified eyes as James looked in dread over her shoulder.

 

“Lily, go,” he told her steadily, taking a step in front of her to shield her. He rolled his shoulders back, feeling his transformation begin to ripple around him. “Lily, _RUN!_ ”

 

James’s transformation burst through his bones, and not a moment too soon as he saw the werewolf erupt from the edge of the forest. Padfoot was nipping at his heels, trying to distract him, but there was no point. The wolf was on the hunt.

 

James dug his hooves into the ground, antlers raised, praying all the while that Lily was safe, hidden behind locked doors. As the werewolf grew closer, he braced for impact.

 

He would die before he let anyone, even his best friend, even _touch_ Lily Evans.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Well, _I_ feel like a fucking idiot,” Lily sighed, exhausted from pulling an all-nighter, emotionally drained from almost getting mauled by her friend/werewolf, and feeling like her brain was about to melt and puddle through her ears from overheating after taking in all of James’s revelations.

 

They were sitting up on the knoll that overlooked the Whomping Willow, James and her, watching the sun rise over the Great Lake as they took in the first cool breaths of morning. Remus was back in the Shrieking Shack, as Lily had just learned that dilapidated building that she had hid in really was, being looked after by Peter and Sirius. It had been a rough night for all of them, but Remus especially; he had been devastated when he learned that he had almost hurt Lily, and she had cried when she saw the pain on his face.

 

She had figured it out the moment she saw James transform into that great, wonderful beast; she had been so entranced by the beauty of the stag that she had almost forgotten to run. That had changed quickly when she caught sight of the wolf barreling towards her, and she had turned tail and made her way through that earthy tunnel faster that she knew she was capable of moving, but _still_. The awe that Lily felt at just the memory of James’s transformation, it almost felt religious.

 

Of course, that feeling faded a bit over the subsequent hours that she spent locked in that dingy, destructed room. Fucking animagi. Did they realize how dangerous it was? To be doing it so young, without any real instruction? It was a fucking miracle the three of them had made it through the process alive, the lucky bastards. Not to mention the whole _Azkaban for life_ thing looming over all of their heads because there was no way in hell any of them were registered, she knew that for a fact. And then running around with a werewolf in the _Forbidden_ Forest?

 

Fucking lunatics.

 

( _Fucking brilliant.)_

 

Lily thought she might just lose her mind waiting for them to come back, switching back and forth between wanting to murder them all and dissect their brains because _how the hell had they accomplished that so young?_ The questions she had, oh _Merlin_ the questions.

 

Sitting in the dark, only moonlight slicing through the boarded up windows to light her way, Lily started putting it all together. _Prongs_. She saw it now, those staggering antlers spoke for themselves. _Moony_ , that one went without saying. That left Peter and Sirius. _Padfoot_. She thought she might have seen a glimpse of an enormous black dog chasing after the wolf, the same beast she had glimpsed trolling the grounds on nights of the full moon; the unhinged power, the glossy black fur, it could only be Sirius. And Wormtail? Merlin, she had been so dense, Peter had to be that unexplained pet rat that inexplicably popped up on the others Marauders’ shoulders every once in a while when she knew none of them owned one.

 

And she had been called the brightest witch of her generation.

 

She sat quietly for so long, piecing it all together, rewriting her history, framing it anew. She felt like she was going insane, overwhelmed by the staggering shift in the world that felt completely impossible yet made all the sense in the world.

 

The anger came later, hot and fast because _James had fucking lectured her about keeping secrets?_ When he had been keeping this secret from her for over a decade? She felt like she wanted to break his face, but she settled on breaking a few ratty chairs instead.

 

Then, finally, she came to acceptance. The fight going out of her, settling on a bed that had definitely seen better days, drawing her knees in tight and just _breathing_. Because she understood it, understood the why. Understood a first year boy, vowing to his friend that he would help him no matter what. Understood the pain, the risk that the Marauders were willing to undertake for each other. Understood that James would sacrifice _anything_ for his brothers.

 

James had always been a bit of a mother hen, as much as he tried to play the rebel; he was just looking out for his family.

 

That realization was how Lily found herself sitting peacefully in the dewy grass, leaning against James’s scratchy wool sweater, a feeling of contentment in her chest. “I can’t believe I never saw it,” she giggled, “I mean, those _nicknames_ you used in school! You weren’t exactly subtle about it, were you?” At the shocked look on James’s face she began to giggle even harder, covering her mouth as her shoulders shook with mirth.

 

“I can’t believe you’re taking this so well,” James replied, ruffling his hair while a disbelieving smile quirked his lips, “I really thought I was going to step into that room and get sucker punched.”

 

“It was a close call,” Lily smirked back, “Thankfully I had plenty of time to, erm, process it.”

 

James let out a laugh, a warm one that Lily felt all the way to her toes. “I thought the shack looked a little more trashed than I had left it,” he replied cheekily, “Anyways, what did you think we were doing all those years? You caught me and the lads sneaking into the Common Room more than once on the night of a full moon, you had to suspect _something_.”

 

“Oh, I don’t know, waiting for him to come back? Sitting vigil? In all honesty I tried not to think about it too much,” she laughed, “I figured it was best for all our sakes, _especially_ for my sanity, to not look into it too much.”

 

“True,” James replied with a wry smile.

 

“Anyways, I thought I had figured out your nicknames already,” Lily continued, “So I didn’t connect those dots.”

 

James raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Oh really?” he asked, voice full of curiosity, “Do tell.”

 

“Oh, you’re going to laugh at me so hard,” she cringed, “So Moony? I thought that was because he was always mooning after Professor Sprout in potions, the girls and I used to always laugh about it back in the dorm. It was adorable, really, even if it was painful to watch sometimes.”

 

“Sprout, really?” James looked completely dumbfounded. “No, there’s no way he fancied her, we would have known!”

 

“Oblivious,” Lily said with a roll of her eyes, “Now, Wormtail. Definitely thought that one was from that _awful_ rattail he was sporting back in third year, trying to wear a ponytail like Sirius. It looked like an anorexic flobberworm.”

 

“Oh yeah, that was gross,” he laughed, “We cut it off in his sleep, he was bloody furious about it, wouldn’t talk to us for a week.”

 

“A true service to humanity,” Lily nodded solemnly before continuing, “Then there was Padfoot. We, the girls and I, all thought that one was pretty obvious and were surprised that he allowed the nickname to stick. See, we all thought it came from that one time where he walked around with a sanitary napkin stuck to his foot all day and no one told him about it.”

 

“Merlin, I forgot about that!” James let out a barking laugh, “I am _so_ going to tell Sirius about that one.”

 

“Be my guest,” she laughed, “Don’t blame me when he hexes you bald again.”

 

“Cold, Evans, ice cold,” he grinned. “And me?”

 

“Ah, Prongs,” she said, rolling the word off her tongue with relish, “Well, I figured that one was because you accidentally stuck yourself with your fork at meals all the time. I mean really, if I hadn’t seen you play Quidditch I would have thought you were the clumsiest bastard alive the way you went at it. I was always worried it would leave scars-” Lily was cut off when James suddenly started to make a choking sound. “What?” she asked, confused, “What is it?”

 

“You-you saw that?” he choked out, “Stabbing myself with a fork, _you saw that?_ ”

 

“James, everyone noticed,” Lily laughed, “We were all a bit concerned, actually. Marlene told me I should start eating at different times than you, but I didn’t understand how that would help.”

 

James let out a loud groan, burying his face in his hands as a deep blush bloomed in his cheeks, spreading all the way to the back of his neck. “I think I might die of embarrassment. Really, put me out of my misery, end me now.”

 

“What are you talking about?” Lily asked, nudging James with her shoulder when he didn’t respond, “Come on, I feel like I’ve been on the outside of some joke for years, tell me! Tell me!”

 

“ _Okay_ ,” James gave in with a groan, “But you will hold this over for me for the rest of my life and because of that I am going to have to pre-emptively come up with some sort of revenge so be prepared for that.” He let out a great sigh. “So. You know how you, Marlene, and the other girls used to sit a bit further down the table from us?” Lily nodded. “Well, I used to, um, get caught up staring at you at meals and that led to, well, more than one fork-related injury.”

 

“You’re shitting me,” Lily deadpanned.

 

“Merlin, I wish I was,” James replied, hiding his face in his hands again.

 

Lily felt it building in her chest. She felt it bubbling, bubbling, until it was boiling over and out into the world: laughter, that laughter that was so whole it felt powerful, cleansing, the kind of laughter that could cure cancer and end wars. “ _That_ ,” she said when she finally caught her breath, “Is the most hilarious thing I have _ever_ heard in my entire life. Merlin, you were such a dork.”

 

And she smiled at him, felt the world smiling at them because this was how they were supposed to be, together. There was so much shit in the word, so much shit between them, but if they could just figure out a way to, not get over it, not exactly, but find some sort of balance between the two of them, then they could have _this_. Together on a hill, watching the sun rise, just _happy_.

 

“So you’re really not mad?” James asked for what had to be the hundredth time that morning, “You’re sure?”

 

Lily gave him a small smile. “Now don’t get me wrong,” she told him, “If I had caught you while we were still in Hogwarts I think I would have flipped shit. But now?” She shrugged. “I get it, you were just protecting your brothers. It wasn’t your secret to tell.”

 

James remained silent, like he was still taking in all she had said, like he still didn’t quite believe she wasn’t going to turn around and slap him. She just nuzzled a bit into his shoulder, though, before standing up to stretch. “I think I’m going to check in on Remus,” she told him, “Find me later?”

 

Lily missed his look of complete wonder as she made her way back towards the shack.

 

* * *

 

 

Lily left a bit later, leaving the boys to regroup after a more eventful night than even they had prepared for. They had broken out the whiskey, a ritual for from the old days for whenever a night kicked the shit out of them. Their dusty glasses sat next to them as they sprawled across the ancient, torn up furniture of the Shack, exhausted but unwilling to move to a more comfortable secondary location.

 

James was still mulling over his conversation with Lily. Honestly he felt like a little bitch right then, the way he had gone about whining about her keeping secrets, conveniently forgetting that he had been keeping a motherfucker of a secret for nearly a decade. And she had accepted it all, accepted his explanations, just like that.

 

Well, obviously not _just like that_. He had seen the bedroom she had been locked in, and he thanked whatever greater being was out there for saving him from her fury. Even if he deserved it, at least a little of it.

 

Her words kept on echoing in his ears. _It wasn’t your secret to tell._ Was that what was happening with her, she was protecting someone? It wasn’t her secret to tell. He hated it, hated that she was tied to someone other than him and that everything she couldn’t tell him sat between them like this river they couldn’t cross, but he couldn’t be angry anymore, not at her. He understood it, understood it with every fiber of his being because he had lived that same kind of lie for years and years, and hadn’t regretted a second of it. The people he was protecting with his secrets and lies, they were worth it.

 

All he had left to wonder was, who was Lily protecting?

 

“Honestly, mate, I still can’t believe Evans was fine with all _this_ ,” Sirius said, gesturing at the four of them.

 

“I don’t think any of us ever gave her enough credit,” said Remus, “She understands loyalty, understands doing whatever it takes to protect the people you care about. And more than anything,” he paused to take a sip of his whiskey, “More than any outsider we’ve ever met, I think she understands _us_.”

 

Sirius nodded and Peter hummed in agreement, although James couldn’t help but notice the latter looked a bit disgruntled by the fact.

 

“She knows about keeping secrets too,” James couldn’t help but add, unable to shake all of the residual bitterness that had built up for weeks, even if he was coming to terms with it all. ( _Even if his heart soared a little bit at Remus’s observation_.)

 

Remus looked at him a bit disappointedly, and James immediately felt ashamed. “We all know about keeping secrets,” the werewolf admonished, “That’s what happens during a war. Hell, that’s what happens when you have someone you care about enough to protect.”

 

“And we all know what Lily’s like,” Peter added, tiredly battling a yawn, “She cares about people more than what should be humanly possible.”

 

“I’m surprised every day that she doesn’t drop dead from all the energy that must take,” Sirius agreed, taking a sip from his glass, “She is a constant reminder of why I should continue to not give a fuck.” The three other boys rolled their eyes; they all knew Sirius was full of shit and would die for any one of them without giving a second thought. “But really, Prongs,” he continued, “You need to get your shit together soon because there’s not ever going to be another girl like her, who can handle _this_.” Again he gestured at the four of them. “I swear if you don’t marry her soon, I’m going to. So lock that shit down, yeah?”

 

James felt himself blushing a deep red as the other two Marauders nodded their agreement, his hand going to his pocket out of habit, fingering the velvet box the way he had twenty times a day since he had retrieved it from the old Potter manor.

 

After weighing all of the pros and cons, the latter of which were mostly all the shit he was going to receive, James finally began, slowly, “I have something to show you guys but you can’t freak out, okay?”

 

“Sorry to break it to you, mate, but I’ve already seen your dick more than I can count and it’s really not _that_ impressive,” Sirius joked, indicating the hand that was still inside James’s pocket.

 

“Shut up you twat,” James replied, still blushing red, “Or I’m not going to tell you anything.” Sirius raised his hands in surrender, so he continued, pulling out the box and opening to show them. “So I picked this up from the manor before Christmas, it was mum’s old ring-”

 

He was interrupted by three impossibly high-pitched squeals for grown men, his three mates clambering from their perches to cluster around the ring box. “Merlin, you’re acting like a bunch of birds,” James teased them, but was secretly proud of the admiring glances his mates were giving the ring.

 

“It’s really lovely James,” Remus told him, giving him an ear-splitting grin, “She’s going to just love it, really.”

 

“Fuck, I was just messing around but,” Sirius was gaping, opening and closing his mouth in shock, “Just _fuck_ , you’re really gonna do this, aren’t you mate?”

 

“Well of course he’s going to ask her,” Peter admonished him, “James has been planning their wedding since third year, I’m sure he already has the flower arrangements all picked out.” He turned his attention back to James. “So which is it, then? Which plan are you going to go with? Anything before number one hundred-thirty was complete shit, so that at least narrows down the list quite a bit.”

 

“Remember, you’ve got to give us at least two weeks notice if you go with anything between numbers two-twenty and three hundred,” Sirius added eagerly, “We were showy little shits in fifth year, weren’t we?”

 

“So which is it, then?” Remus asked, prodding James in the side as he sunk lower and lower into the overstuffed sofa he was sitting on, “Which plan are you going with?”

 

James let out a deep groan that seemed to shake the room. He covered his face with his hands as the reality began setting in. _He was going to do this. He was actually going to do this_.

 

“ _Ergh_ ,” he groaned miserably, “Fuck if I know.”


End file.
